


For You, Baby

by MereWhispers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Emma has a potty mouth, Emma is also the Sheriff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Swearing, and that's it, bc i cannot survive without angst, gods i'm so bad at this, i think, khi khi, so the potty mouth's forgiven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-04-05 03:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MereWhispers/pseuds/MereWhispers
Summary: Sheriff Emma Swan has no place for romance (or even plain oldsex with strangers in the back alley) in her life. She has her eventful town to take care of, and a whole lot of awful past experiences that she'd rather not relive. But, her best friend wouldn't get off her case, forcing her on blind dates and whatnot, which always end with Emma humiliating the guy in one way or the other.Can Killian Jones, the sex-on-legs new guy in town, change anything about it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Ain't it a delight when you discover a new show and end up obsessing over it like crazy, when it's in its final season? I'll tell ya: it is.
> 
> This is something that I wrote out of the blue―hadn't really meant to extend it into a full blown story that has an actual _end_ , but it happened anyway. The way I'd plotted Killian was way too good to not explore.
> 
> This entire thing is in Emma's POV, third person and limited. 
> 
> PS. The title comes from Charlie Puth's new song with Kehlani, bc it's BOMB.
> 
> Here's hoping that the Captain Swan fam likes it!

“So, Emma… I was thinking—”

“No.” Emma didn’t bother looking up from the file before her, well aware what Mary Margaret had come here for.

“What? At least let me _say_ it before you say no!” Mary Margaret stalked up to Emma’s desk, placing her fists on her waist to look down her nose at Emma.

Emma let out a tired sigh. “Are you actually trying to threaten the Sheriff right now, Miss Blanchard?”

The brunette leaned over, planting her hands on the top of the desk. “No. I’m trying to reason with my best friend.”

Emma finally put Will Scarlet’s file aside, too distracted to keep a track of the number of thefts he’d been involved in around the neighborhood. She shot her petite friend a glare. “You’re trying to _reason with me_? Are you for real, right now, MM? Forcing me to go on blind dates—which are actually awkward as hell _double dates_ with you and David, mind you—is not you reasoning with me, _no_. It is actually you losing every semblance of rationality you ever had.”

“Ouch, woman. Don’t use your Sheriff persona on me,” Mary Margaret mumbled, looking away with a pout. “You know I do this because I c—”

“Care about me? I’m aware,” Emma interjected, leaning back in her seat with crossed arms. “But... MM, you have to understand that getting into a relationship isn’t gonna help me in any way. I don’t have room for it, emotionally _and_ physically. I mean, come on! Even if I set aside my baggage, the way you keep asking me to, I do not have any time for this! I’m the Sheriff of a town that doesn’t go a _week_ without criminal incidents.”

Mary Margaret released a breath, her shoulders slumping. She looked like she’d given up. But Emma knew better than to start celebrating just yet, even after the brunette had left the station with a forced smile and promises of catching up on a lunch with Elsa, whenever the Sheriff duties gave her enough time.

Emma had had this conversation way too many times to celebrate just yet.

With a sigh, she picked up Scarlet’s file, again, knowing that she would be ambushed about this again in no time.

 

* * *

 

The messages started arriving at about half past two, that very same night.

 **(02.34) MM:** _Okay, but here’s a thought:_  
**(02.35) MM:** _What if you don’t go for a relationship?_ **  
(02.35) MM:** _What if you find someone to hook up with?_ **  
(02.37) MM:** _It wouldn’t need much physical attention, and absolutely no emotional attention from you, AND it would do the job_  
**(02.38) MM:** _A win-win!_

Emma snorted into her cup of coffee, waving at him when Deputy Robin rose to leave the station. She was the one pulling an all-nighter tonight, because apparently, babysitting a pregnant Regina wasn’t an easy task, and Henry had begged her to not make his step-father stay out all night long, another night. Emma really could never resist Regina Mills’ adopted son’s puppy face.

_“do the job”?_ **(02.39)** _**  
** mary margaret, are u implying that I need to get laid? _ **(** **02.39)**

**(02.40) MM _:_** _Omg, Emma why are you still up so late at night?_  
**(02.40) MM:** _And to answer your question:_  
**(02.40) MM:** _I’m implying that you need to UNWIND_  
**(02.40) MM:** _Live a little_  
**(02.41) MM:** _We live in Storybrooke – the town, as you said, that never goes a week without criminal activities_  
**(02.41) MM:** _And it probably never will!!!_  
**(02.42) MM:** _Does that mean the sheriff isn’t gonna live her life outside of the station?_

Emma shut her eyes, shaking her head at her best friend’s persuasion skills. The woman could talk a saint into sinning. But Emma wasn’t a saint—she was Mary Margaret’s best friend. Hence, the person that was the most immune to the brunette’s charms.

 _i’m up bc i’m at the station_ **(02.45)  
**_and your tactics don’t work on me anymore, mm_ **(02.45)  
**_i’ll try to make it to elsa’s this sunday_ **(02.45)  
**_see you then, good night x_ **(02.46)**

Emma turned her phone off, well aware that Mary Margaret could debate tirelessly, and totally not interested in making her exhausting day pain her mentally, too, by trying to keep up with the brunette.

She’d sworn off relationships, two years back, after her disaster with Walsh. The man had an entire family going, complete with a wife and two kids, behind her back. Or rather, he was dating Emma behind _his family’s_ back. Whatever way you put it, situation was fucked up for her. Before him, she’d lost a boyfriend when he went abroad for higher studies, one lost himself to drugs, and another—a Sheriff, ironically—was killed in an ambush that his enemies had concocted.

Needless to say, relationships weren’t meant for Emma Swan. Sometimes she felt like she was cursed to die single. Other times, like that once, two years back—when she’d claimed this position of Sheriff—she took the situation by the neck, and promised herself that she’d dedicate her one hundred percent to her job, not leaving room for any kind of relationships—fuck buddies, hookups, and one night stands, _included_ —in her schedule. And because of Storybrooke being—well, _Storybrooke_ , the staying busy part was pretty easily handled, too.

If only handling Mary Margaret Blanchard could be this easy.

With a resigned exhale, Emma dunked her empty takeaway cup into the trash bin, and logged into her computer. Maybe monitoring the surveillance cameras in Scarlet’s most targeted areas would keep her mind off the nonsense Mary Margaret kept pulling her into.

 

* * *

 

Caffeine withdrawals were the worst thing in Emma’s life. Except for her best friend’s nosiness, of course, but. Well. As long as Emma didn’t turn her phone back on, or Mary Margaret came knocking her door, Emma was safe from that shit.

Caffeine withdrawals, on the other hand— _God_ , that was a fucking mess, in itself.

After staying up the whole night with innumerable cups of coffee, the few hours she spent without it made Emma feel like she’d been dragged through Hell. And back.

She swore to herself as she stumbled up the staircase of her house at six o’clock of the morning, ready to bang her head against a wall to make it stop pounding. That was another reason why she hadn’t turned her phone on, even when she knew how her mother preferred to know of her well being after she’d spent the night at the station. Mary Margaret was sure to have blown off a hundred messages to her, especially when the first few would’ve gone undelivered. Emma was better off without her phone having a seizure when it was back on. Or worse yet, the near death experience she’d have if she tried _reading_ through the load of those texts.

She glanced at the clock hanging opposite the door to her bedroom.

“It’s seven _already_?” she exclaimed, wincing when the shrill of her own voice thumped like a hammer against her head.

She could _swear_ she’d left the station at six, sharp, when one of her Deputies had arrived to take charge. (The man had fussed about how the Sheriff shouldn’t have been the one to stay the night; but, well, because she was doing Robin—or, _Henry_ , actually—a personal favor, Emma brushed off the deputy’s words). And it had been a few minutes past six when she checked in the hallway’s clock, downstairs. Had she _slept_ on the stairs on her way up?

It really seemed plausible, at the moment.

With a tired inhale, Emma padded into her bedroom, tugging her jacket off—and then she stopped.

It was 7 am. On a work day. Her mother would be in her office, by now. _And_ driving herself sick with worry because Emma hadn’t contacted her, yet.

Ingrid’s worried face floated into Emma’s head, and with a deep groan of regret—because she _knew_ she was gonna fucking regret it—she fished her phone out of her jacket’s pocket and switched it on.

While the damn thing underwent the seizure Emma had anticipated, she went about her business, undressing and freshening up—as well as she could, with her thundering head—and got into bed.

Then she dared to pick her mobile phone up.

Mary Margaret had left her fifty three messages and nine voicemails, till past five of the morning. _Does this woman not sleep, or what?_ Okay, so that was a bit less than what Emma had expected. Rolling her eyes, she cleared the notifications tab without any guilt, and pulled out her mother’s contact. There was a single “are you home, yet?” from her mother, sent almost an hour back—around the time she _had_ actually reached home—and it tugged at Emma’s heart.

Who even needed relationships with a mother like hers? Emma quickly sent a reassuring response to her mom, before switching her phone off again.

She needed sleep, and she needed it _now_.

Tugging the quilt up, over her head, she slipped into deep sleep almost immedia…

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line! Also, tell me what do you feel about the text messages? I find them fun.  
> Killian enters in the next one. Promise. (I have the next four written out already, so...)
> 
> xo!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting now, 'cause I got impatient. Sowie.
> 
> Introducing: *drumrolls* Killian Jones!

After all the protests and ultimatums and threats Emma had sent Mary Margaret’s way, Saturday evening saw Emma Swan sitting in a booth with said brunette and her High School sweetheart, David Nolan, at Granny’s Diner. Awaiting Emma’s blind date’s arrival.

Yes, Emma had fallen into Mary Margaret’s trap, _yet again._ The brunette, along with David, had come to her house, almost an hour back, and the two of them had practically forced Emma into her Bug and made her drive here with them.

And to top it all off, this person was a friend of David’s. _What the actual fuck?_ She couldn’t even kick his ass, at the end of the night. She’d have to be courteous, and tell him off politely.

Not that she was a rude person by nature, but politeness was a difficult feat to achieve for Emma. Maybe it had something to do with her being the Sheriff. Or, maybe it was her mother’s genes.

Emma could especially not manage people that insisted that they knew her needs better than herself. And we’re talking all kinds of “needs,” including sexual ones. She was loathe to admit that she’d never had a sexual partner that didn’t try imposing himself on her, claiming to know what he was doing, and leaving her high and dry in the end.

Talking of, Mary Margaret had gone into lengths and lengths of rants about this mystery guy’s “prowess in bed.” Something that had weirded Emma out, because, hello? _David’s friend?_ But when David seemed like he’d join his girlfriend in praising the guy, too, Emma had made a run for it.

She heaved a sigh, sipping at the mug of hot chocolate before her, keeping her eyes focused on it to avoid looking at Mary Margaret and David’s cuddling, _and_ the entrance. She wanted to give this guy a clean message of “disinterested” from the moment he saw her. And nothing said disinterest better than not acknowledging a person’s presence.

Mary Margaret cleared her throat, and Emma’s gaze snapped to hers. “What?” she mumbled around the rim of the mug.

Mary Margaret looked at David, eyes narrowed. “He isn’t gonna bail on us, is he?”

Muffled laughter escaped Emma, and David grimaced against Mary Margaret’s death stare. “Okay, there _is_ a possibility that he might bail?” Emma asked them, not bothering to hide the glee in her voice. Emma liked this guy, already. But. Like, not like _that_. She was still very disinterested. “Oh, wow.”

Mary Margaret harrumphed, petulantly, and crossed her arms. “No, there—”

“Yes, Emma, there is,” David interjected, giving Mary Margaret an apologetic smile. “I had to persuade him to come almost as much as Mary Margaret had to persuade you.”

“So, he’s averse to dating as well.” Emma’s brows hiked up. “What, his ex was married, too?” she joked, going back to her hot chocolate.

But David cleared his throat, uncomfortably, and Mary Margaret thumped her head against the table with a groan. “As a matter of fact...”

Emma’s mouth fell open. _Oh–kay, then._ She suddenly didn’t feel all that much disinterested. “I think, I—”

Emma’s phone rang at that very moment, twirling on the table with Deputy Robin’s name flashing on the screen. Robin never contacted her on her evenings off work, so this had to be an emergency of some kind. Frowning, Emma quickly received the call.

“Deputy?” she asked.

“Hi, Miss Swan, it’s me!” came a ten-year-old’s energetic, but also breathless voice from the other end.

Emma’s frowned deepened. “Henry? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, Miss Swan, but Mom…” He trailed off, and Emma’s heartbeat quickened in fear. She shot to her feet.

“Regina? What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s… Miss Swan, she’s in pain. I—I think it’s time for… um… dad says she needs a female’s help, but there isn’t any in the neighborhood, and,” Henry spoke quickly, not giving Emma time to respond as he ranted, “I just—dad asked me to call aunt Zelena, but she’s never of any help, so I called you! Can you help her?”

Emma’s head swam. Regina was probably going into labor, and because her due date was supposed to be almost three weeks later, this situation wasn’t simple by any means. She took a deep breath. “Henry, stop. Take a breath, kid, okay? Relax. Don’t worry. I’m on my way,” she said, giving Mary Margaret and David a look, who nodded back in understanding, “I’ll be there in five. Stay with Regina; ask your dad to stay calm.”

“Yes, Miss Swan,” Henry responded, already sounding more relaxed than a minute ago.

Emma smiled. “That’s a good by. Now, I’ll see you very soon.”

Disconnecting the call, Emma rushed to the reception at Granny’s. “Ruby? _Ruby_!”

The brunette came rushing out of the one of the back rooms, eyes widened. “Em…uh, Sheriff?” she asked, fumbling with her hair that she was obviously in the process of tying.

Emma waved a dismissive hand. “It’s always Emma to you, Ruby. And, uh, I kinda want a little help from you?”

Ruby’s eyebrows hiked up. “Anything, Emma.”

Emma gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you. So… your, uh, _friend_ , Doctor Whale?”

Ruby’s cheeks flushed, matching her namesake. “What of him?” she muttered, not looking Emma in the eye.

“I have a Deputy’s wife going into premature labor. Can you ask him to arrange a—”

“Of course!” Ruby exclaimed, taking out her phone, immediately. “Right away, Emma.”

Emma nodded, mumbling another “thank you,” and dashed out of Granny’s and towards her car. Quickly getting in, she turned the ignition, and—

The damn thing wouldn’t start.

With a frustrated groan, she thumped a fist against the steering wheel and tried again. And again. And _again_. To no avail.

“Seriously?” She looked heaven-wards, cursing whichever evil power was playing games with her, right now.

She jumped out of the car, kicking the gate closed with the heel of her boots in frustration.

“That little thing will crumple under such wrath, lass.”

Emma looked up, startled, and—couldn’t look away for more seconds than she’d admit. The man standing next to her Bug flashed a grin at her, which was more of a repertoire of dirty promises than an actual facial expression. Emma swallowed, taken aback by the sex appeal he was dripping with, and the way it was pulling her in.

His dark hair was an artful mess, effortless and drop dead _sexy_ , accentuating the laid back but rough impression that the scruff spread over his jaw exuded. Not to mention the chest hair that peered at her from the gaping V of his biker’s jacket. Was he wearing _only_ a jacket?

For the first ever time in the span of two years, Emma Swan found her mouth drying up at the sight of a man.

And it was bad news. Really, really bad news.

Pulling herself out of the haze she’d slipped into—after a _really_ long time in her life—Emma pursed her lips and slipped on a mask of indifference.

“And who the hell are _you_?” she snapped, channeling her worries about Regina, irritation over her car, and anger at herself for letting a man sway her from her thoughts of celibacy so easily, into her tone.

His head jerked back by the force of her words, and Emma belatedly realized that he wasn’t a resident. Not only did Emma know almost the entire population of Storybrooke—being Sheriff, and all—but she was also pretty sure that “lass” wasn’t a word she’d heard people of her town throwing around in general conversation.

“The name’s Killian; Killian Jones. And I happen to be a bystander to the cruelty you seem to be putting your poor car through.” His left eyebrow rose up, and as that sultry grin made its way back onto his face, his eyebrows alternated their positions.

Emma blinked, and cleared her throat. _Oh, God._ Why was she letting him get to her? What the hell was _wrong with her?!_

“Well, _Killian_ , if you’re done with your expert commentary—I’m in a rush, I have to be somewhere, ASAP,” she said, her tone barely any softer, but the damned man outright laughed in response.

Her cheeks felt warm, and she wasn’t sure if she was more embarrassed or more angered. But both of them went right out of her mind when he took a purposeful step towards her. And then another—and a couple more until he was right in front of her, towering a good few inches above her head. Her breath was knocked right out of her lungs when she looked into his blue eyes that swirled like a sea storm.

“How do you suppose you would get to wherever you 'have to be'?” he said in a low murmur, and Emma felt beads of sweat breaking out on her neck; his voice was pure _sin_. “Your car doesn’t seem to be of much help. Do you need a ride?”

Emma blinked, both at his proposition, and the sudden sincerity that slipped into his voice and expressions. She squinted at him. “And why would I ask you, if I did, _stranger_?” she snarled at him, feeling more like a teenager than an actual twenty eight years old woman.

He flashed her that grin of his again, and Emma bit down on her lip to prevent herself from uttering something unseemly out of the rush of lust that slammed into her. His gaze dropped to her lips, briefly, but then he stepped back. “You know Liam Jones, right?”

Emma released her lip, surprised. Liam Jones was one of her most trustworthy Deputies; so, _of course_ , she knew him. “I do, yes.”

Killian shrugged a shoulder, looking away from her as he slid both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, I’m his younger brother; come here to visit him, all the way from—”

“NYC,” Emma mumbled, finally joining the dots. _That’s_ where she’d seen the blue eyes! Liam talked way too much about his younger brother, so much so that she felt like she knew him. And now, she was finally meeting him. A small smile curved upon her lips. “So, _you’re_ the ‘little brother _’_ he keeps going on about.”

Killian’s cheeks flushed red, and suddenly, Emma had to add “adorable” to the list of adjectives she would use to describe this guy. “I cannot chastise him enough to not call me that,” he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair, before stopping to scratch at the back of his right ear. Which he wore a shiny, black stud in. _Whoa_. “Well, anyhow. It seems that you know not only my brother, but adequate facts about me, as well.”

Emma nodded, now chuckling at the grimace he sported. Knowing that he was the guy she’d heard _so many_ embarrassing stories about, made it easier for her to tamp down the physical pull she felt towards him. “I guess I'll use that ride you were offering, then.”

Killian grinned again, this time all cheeky and boyish and downright _gleeful_ , and Emma actually felt her heart skipping a beat.

_God, not this. Not this, not this, not this!_

A quick fuck, she could deal with. Developing feelings, though? _Nope_. Not now, not ever.

 “I do not have a spare helmet, I’m sorry. Just hold tight and you’ll be fine. I promise to drive slow, love.”

Emma nodded at him, gesturing for him to lead her to his car, and—

Wait.

_Helmet_?

Did he own a—

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me...”

Granted, the biker’s jacket should’ve been a giveaway, but Emma couldn’t have imagined that Deputy Jones’ _little brother_ , who was a successful marine engineer in New York, would come down to their town and travel around on a damned _motorcycle_.

She really couldn’t win with this evil power above, which kept on sending her tumbling down spiral staircases, could she?

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this one was a single scene? Oops. Drop a line!
> 
> xo!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Till I have these pre-written, I'll post impatiently. But - there isn't much action in this one, so. Apologies in advance.
> 
> PS. Did anyone hear Shawn Mendes' new single, "In My Blood"? I'm obsessing over it and crying like a baby, smh.

Emma clenched her teeth as tight as she’d clenched her fists against Killian’s leather jacket. She leaned forward, not caring about how that action pressed her breasts against his back, and moved her mouth behind his pierced ear. “What the hell happened to the promise of driving slow?” she almost yelled.

Not that it made a difference, because almost all of her voice was carried away by the wind that passed them by at a frightening speed. Because _they_ were rushing down the streets on a frightening speed, Jesus _fucking_ Christ! “This _is_ slow, lass!” Killian yelled back.

Emma was sure that, had it not been for the fact that she’d fall off the freaking bike if she relented her grip on him, she would have wrapped her fingers around this bastard’s throat! “What the actual _fuck_? Are you sure you aren’t a serial killer, Jones?”

His laughter traveled back to her ears, and Emma shut her eyes against how throaty it was. “You’re a bit too late for that suspicion, love,” he shouted. “You don’t a have choice but to hold on tight and wait for us to reach our destination. Wherever that might be.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She knew the streets of Storybrooke way too well to ever have a risk of getting lost. Killian was taking the shortcut to the Storybrooke General Hospital the way Emma had asked him to. The fucker was driving way too fast, though, and Emma feared she’d need to see a doctor before she could reach out to Regina.

“Just two more turns, love. Hold on,” Killian said, and Emma promptly rolled her eyes, again.

She almost squealed in fright when the bike took a dip, and they leaned on the right. She hid her face against his back, prepared for the scary dip when they took a left turn, minutes later.

She was breathless and _extremely_ pissed off when he finally pulled the brakes in front of the hospital building. She would’ve stayed to give him a piece of her mind, but she caught Henry’s mop of black hair disappearing through the hospital’s entrance, and Emma leapt off the bike—

Only to almost topple over when her legs wobbled.

“Easy, there, swan!” Killian exclaimed, gripping her elbow to steady her.

She held onto his forearm with the other hand, nodding in gratitude. She willed her brain to not focus on how warm and gentle, and yet firm, his grip felt against the softness of her sweater. And _especially_ not to focus on how long and shapely his fingers were, or how muscled his forearm was—

Shutting her eyes, she let her tightly wound muscles and joints relax for a moment, and then released his hand and stepped away. _Better_.

Then she suddenly realized what he’d called her. She distinctly remembered not telling him her name. “What did you just call me?” she questioned, suspiciously.

He sheepishly pointed at the neck of her boat neck sweater. “That, uh, locket of yours? It’s a swan, aye?”

Emma cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks warming up. “Yes, um. Yes, it is.” She felt dizzy, and this time it didn't feel like an aftereffect of that ride from hell she’d just taken. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she had to inhale deeply to gain her bearings.

“Are you alright, love?” Killian was looking at her with wide, concerned eyes.

She felt her cheeks warming up again. She frowned at herself. “I should thank you for the ride, but I actually wanna kill you for the near heart-attacks I had. So—I’ll stick with asking you to get the fuck lost, before I actually act upon it,” she warned him, and he burst out laughing, throwing his head back.

And there again, her heartbeat stumbled.

 _Ugh_.

Maybe she really did need to get laid? But. _God_. She totally didn’t want to get into that mess.

“I’ll be out of your hair, swan. It’s alright.” Killian winked at her, then, and she didn’t breathe for the entire time it took for him to put his helmet back on and turn his bike around to leave.

She twisted on her heels, rushing into the hospital.

This guy was dangerous for her health.

 

* * *

 

If Robin looked at her with that humbled, grateful look in his eyes one more time, Emma _was_ going to fire him.

“Did you see her?” Henry’s question pulled her out of mentally cursing Robin’s down to earth nature.

Emma smiled at the boy. “Which _her_ are we talking about, kid?” she joked, knowing full well that he was bubbling with excitement about his little sister.

Henry pouted at him. “For a Sheriff, you aren’t all that smart, Miss Swan,” he commented, and Emma let out a surprised cough of laughter. “I’m talking about Helena, obviously!”

Emma bit back a grimace at the name. It sounded more like Zelena’s daughter’s name, didn’t it? She still smiled at Henry, patting at the waiting chair next to her. “Not yet, Henry. I’m waiting here to do just that.”

“Sheriff?”

Emma looked up, and stood up on finding Dr. Whale smiling at her. “Hello, doctor. Thank you so much for your help, tonight.”

Whale laughed. “Oh, it was nothing. It was the least I could do for a friend.”

“Friend?” Emma cocked a brow, knowing it would get the doctor flustered.

And, flustered he got, quickly removing his glasses with an apology. “Oh, no! No, Sheriff, I—I meant _Ruby_. Not that—not that I did this for _her_ , I was trying to help _you_ , of course, just—”

“Hey, hey, I was just joking,” Emma pulled him out of his misery with a chuckle. “Ruby’s a good friend of mine. I need to thank her, too.”

Whale smiled, somewhat hesitantly, and made a quick excuse to walk away. Emma sat down on her seat with a slow exhale.

“Miss Swan?”

She turned to look at Henry, obediently seated upon the chair next to her, with a barely concealed smile. Something about this boy made her feel really motherly. “Yes, kid?”

“Why are you dressed like this?”

Emma looked down at her pale blue, cashmere sweater and black leggings. She pursed her lips. She was dressed up for a date that she didn’t wanna be at—and was successfully saved from, too, thanks to this very child—but she didn’t wanna tell him that. “I was out with my friends. For dinner.”

“Oh. Was it a date?” Henry asked almost immediately, and Emma choked on an inhale. “I saw that you came here with a man. He was very handsome, Miss Swan.”

Emma coughed louder, hacking up a lung. “Henry,” she finally said when her breaths leveled out. “I was having dinner with _two_ friends. And the—the man that dropped me here? He was…one of them.”

She felt slightly guilty for lying to a child who’d asked her a question out of innocence, but she couldn’t very well jump into elaborate descriptions of how Mary Margaret and David had trapped her, tonight, and that Killian was an almost stranger that she’d sought out help from at the hour of need.

Henry, to his credit, merely nodded in response.

But Emma realized she’d relaxed too soon when he looked at her with a glint in his eyes. “But I think you should go to a date with that man, Miss Swan!”

Emma inhaled, sharply, and was in the process of articulating a response, when Robin called to her.

“Regina wants to see you, Sheriff.”

Emma stood up, gesturing for Henry to follow, and flashed Robin a huge smile. “I want to see her, too.”

“And Helena!” Henry added, enthusiastically.

Emma nodded with a laugh, quietly walking into Regina’s room.

The feisty brunette, whom Emma had never seen without her fire, looked extremely pale and beat in her hospital bed. She greeted Emma with a brilliant smile. “Sheriff,” Regina mumbled, extending a hand that wasn’t hooked to an IV. “Thank you so much for arranging all this so quickly. The due date wasn’t for another three weeks, and despite whatever I said to him, Robin won’t listen to me. He was insistent upon calling Zelena to help me at home.”

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “Thank your son first, Regina. He was smart enough to contact me. And about the hospital? Well, I remembered the due date Robin had given me, and joined the dots.”

Emma held the woman’s hand, and Regina gave her fingers a squeeze. “Do want to see her?”

Emma nodded; her heart full of love. “Absolutely.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Drop a line!  
> Precap:
>
>> Killian let out a throaty laugh, shaking head. Then his eyes caught hers, holding her gaze captive by the intensity shining in them. “Perhaps gratitude is in order now,” he said, slowly.
>> 
>> Emma chuckled, taking a step closer. “Yeah... That’s what the thank you was for.”
> 
>   
> *nudge nudge* I'm so cliche, ain't I? *deep sigh*  
> xo! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had grilled cheese for breakfast. Tee-Hee!
> 
> Shawn Mendes dropped another BOP, in the form of "Lost in Japan." I wanna marry that song!
> 
> Also, you're gonna like this chapter!

Emma had been _so_ wrong to think that riding a motorbike with Killian Jones was awful. Because it was nothing against walking home from the hospital after having stayed there and babysat a preteen boy for three hours.

But Emma had called this upon herself on refusing Robin’s offers of taking their car, because the Hood family was going to stay at the hospital for the night. Emma could be cruel, but she wasn’t that mean.

Inhaling deeply, she crossed her arms in front of her and continued to walk. At least tomorrow was a Sunday, and she wouldn’t have to report to the station till noon.

Being the Sheriff had it perks. She was walking down an isolated road at one o’clock of the morning, without any fear. Smiling to herself, Emma brushed her fingers over the holster in her jeans’ waist where she’d safely tucked a pocket knife away.

But the evil power that had it out for her was probably listening to her inner thoughts, because at that very moment, her vision was blinded by the headlights of a motorcycle rolling down the road, in her direction. Her eyes clenched shut, reflexively, and Emma jumped upon the footpath to get out of its way. But when the lights—and the vehicle—didn’t pass her by, she shielded her eyes with a hand and squinted into the direction of the light.

Before she could’ve begun to decipher anything else, though, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Hello, swan.”

Emma let out a loud groan, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “Seriously? Are you a _stalking_ me, Jones?”

The headlights turned off, and Killian’s lascivious grin came into her view. _Oh, fuck…_

She immediately looked away, crossing her arms to show her annoyance.

“Can’t do that when I don’t even know what your name is. I was waiting for you to be done with whatever you went to the hospital for,” Killian said before she could speak.

Emma glared at him. “Don’t lie to me. I _saw_ you leaving! You went back—”

“You saw me wear my helmet, swan,” Killian corrected her. “You didn’t see me really leave, did you?”

Emma scoffed. “I did—” She stopped short, realizing that she’d just rushed away from him, their proximity doing things to her head, and hadn’t actually bothered to check if he’d left or not. “Not.”

Killian’s mobile brows arched, one after the other, mocking her. “I don’t lie, lass.”

Emma pinched her lips together, not letting herself smile, but it didn’t mean a thing, because he already seemed to know that she was amused.

“Come, now. Hop on. I will _actually_ drive slowly, this time.” He winked at her, and she was gone.

She was so fucking attracted to this guy, it was unreal. Were they some sorts of soul-mates from some alternate universe? Werewolf mates? _Edward Cullen and Bella Swan?_ Oh, look, her surname matched, too!

Emma huffed at her own thoughts, and shaking her head, walked up to him to climb onto his motorcycle.

“Where to, lass?” he asked as she adjusted on the seat.

Emma frowned. She didn’t exactly wanna give away her location, but… She drew in a short breath. “You’re not getting my address out of me that easily, Mister Stranger,” she playfully said, and he tossed her a smirk over his shoulder, getting ready to put his helmet on. “Just drop me at the library, I’ll walk from there.”

“You caught me, swan,” he playfully jibed back. “Should’ve known it won’t be easy, aye? Very well. The library, it is. As you wish.” He fastened his helmet in place.

“You still don’t have a spare helmet?” she murmured next to his neck, flattening her palms over his abdomen, and holding tight as he revved the engine.

He let out that melodious chuckle of his again, and Emma actually felt stirrings in her lower abdomen. _For real_. “My apologies, love. I didn’t get the chance to pick one up.”

Emma nodded, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade and held her breath when they started moving, and—

“ _Whoa_!” she yelped, clutching him impossibly tighter when the bike tilted and stayed that way for an extended period of time.

She opened her eyes a fraction, and—oh, fuck, they were taking a U- _fucking_ -turn.

“Alright, there?” Killian said to her when they’d straightened, and Emma drew in a large gulp of breath when she noticed that he really was driving at a humane speed, this time.

She eased her hold on him, and pulled her head away. “I will be, if you don’t speed up. Or take deathly dips at every turn.”

He laughed, and Emma bit down on her lower lip. This was getting out of her hands really fast.

“So… you’re visiting Liam, then?” she questioned the subject of her misplaced lust— _fuck her life_ —to keep herself from  taking a nosedive into something messy.

“Aye,” he responded, sliding the visor of his helmet up with a hand, and Emma’s heart jumped.

“You better not kill us, mister! Keep _both_ your hands on the handles!” She wasn’t proud of how high pitched her voice was, but she was scared, dammit!

“It’s a single handle, love,” he corrected her, voice brimming with amusement. “And I’m an expert driver—you are in safe hands.”

Emma was _pretty_ sure she hadn’t imagined the husky notes he’d lowered his voice to at the end. She barely held back a shudder. “Yeah, whatever. Just—don’t give me heart attacks like that.”

“Rest assured, swan, my brother would be the first one to arrest me if that ever happened.”

A corner of Emma’s lips quirked up. That much was true. “I agree. He’s a huge moralist. _Extremely_ gentlemanly. Too much, at times.”

She felt laughter rumble through him, and subtly put some space between their torsos. Thank God for their topic of conversation. She had been behaving like a prepubescent teen that was experiencing a crush for the first time in her life.

_Phew_.

“You know him _that_ well, then?”

Emma did a double take at the almost jealous undertone to his question. Then she mentally shook herself back to the land of realty—she’d met him not six hours ago; he wasn’t gonna feel jealous over her!

“Lass?”

“Uh, yeah. He…” Emma trailed off, suddenly realizing that Killian probably didn’t know that she was the Sheriff. How could he? He’d never seen her, and she hadn’t told him her name, yet. (And she wasn’t going to, either.) “He’s a Deputy, isn’t he?”

“Aye. He boasts that his Sheriff calls him one of her best,” Killian added with a laugh, and Emma ducked her head. “I tease him that she probably has a crush on him.”

She _did_ call Liam that, because he was one of the best, but she totally did not have a crush on him! _Obviously_. In fact, he and Robin were like two elder brothers to her that she could always count on, in and outside of the station. “He’s a great friend of mine, actually,” Emma confessed, filtering the truth, because she suddenly didn’t wanna give Killian more ideas about the ‘crush’ thingy; he was sure to eventually find out that she was the Sheriff he was talking about, after all. “Sort of a _big brother_ I never had,” she added, emphasizing on the brother part.

She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but it felt like his body loosened up at that.

“Speaking of Liam,” she started, rushing to fill the silence, “he’s told me you’re a marine engineer. And a successful one. Now, I’m not trying to be judgy, but… this motorcycle and leather jacket thingy doesn’t exactly fit that profile of yours. So…?”

It took him a moment to respond. “The fact that it doesn’t suit me, is all the more reason behind my fascination, love,” he explained, and Emma nodded in understanding.

She could relate to what he said.

She’d been part of the law enforcement department since long. She started out as a bail bondsperson, eight years back, when she and Mary Margaret were struggling to manage their bills and college tuition finances, despite the extremely low rent their shared studio apartment charged them.  Emma had worked her way to the top from there, over the course of these eight years. (And, yes, maybe references from Graham had been of help, too, but she hadn’t strived solely on that.)

Putting in such hard work had resulted in her staying conscious of never going against rules and regulations of any sort, anywhere; she had to show the authorities that she was worthy, after all. Now. She was pretty satisfied with what that gave her, at the end, but she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t feel suffocated by it all, sometimes.

When people looked up to her example of abiding by the law, she didn’t really have a choice but to keep going the way she had been. And when she felt like breaking a few harmless rules, well, she couldn’t. She was—

“Where’d you go, lass? We’re here.”

She blinked, coming out of her thoughts. The she looked around. “Oh. I was just…thinking about something.”

She stepped off the motorcycle, smiling at Killian, hesitantly as he took his helmet off.

“So. You didn’t kill me, after all,” she joked. “Thank you for that.”

Killian let out a throaty laugh, shaking head. Then his eyes caught hers, holding her gaze captive by the intensity shining in them. “Perhaps gratitude is in order now,” he said, slowly.

Emma chuckled, taking a step closer. “Yeah... That’s what the thank you was for.”

Killian’s stare dropped to her lips and he licked his own. He didn’t say a word, but Emma’s entire body heated up, her breath hitched, and—oh, _God_ , all of her attraction for this guy felt _so real_ , right now. She could easily erase the distance between them, and then walk out into the darkness of the night with no one being the wiser. He was gonna leave the town, too, so it wasn’t as if he could hound her for more. It was so easy, so convenient, so fucking _tempting_ , and yet—

_And yet_.

Clenching her jaw, Emma took a determined step back.

He was Liam’s brother. She couldn’t do something rash like this—goddamn it, the guy didn’t even know her _name_ , least of all the fact that she was the town’s Sheriff—without worrying about the consequences.

Something must have shown on her face, not that her stepping away wasn’t a clear enough signal, because understanding suddenly flashed in his eyes. She watched as a myriad of expressions passed his face, ranging from confusion to hurt, before he looked away from her.

“Right. I, um.” He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his pierced ear— _a nervous tick_ , she recognized—and then swiped that hand over his face before putting his helmet back on. “I’ll get going, then.”

Emma tossed him a tight lipped smile, folding her hands behind her back. “Yeah, you…you probably should. Liam would be waiting,” she added, intentionally, even though she knew he was posted at the station. “Good night, Killian. And thank you so much for helping me out, tonight.”

He shot her an obviously half-hearted smile, and pulled down the visor of his helmet. This time, she watched as he rolled back his shoulders and revved his motorcycle, speeding off into the night, moment later.

Emma released a deep sigh.

“You did the right thing, Emma Swan,” she muttered to herself, twisting on her heels to walk down the lane to her apartment. “ _Stop_ thinking about how his lips would’ve felt, _for fuck’s sake!_ ”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN TO THAT SONG, GUYS, I CAN'T STOP REPLAYING IT!!!
> 
> "I'm a couple hundred miles from Japan, and I  
> I was thinking I could fly to your hotel tonight." 
> 
> *heart eyes*
> 
> Anyway. Leave a word for me!  
> xo!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, thanks for all the reviews! This is a weird one.  
> xo!

Emma was still in disbelief. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken two consecutive days off work without Storybrooke falling apart around them by the end of her second day.

But, Malcolm and his chain of drug dealers were long sent to jail, now. As were hardened criminals like the head of the sex trafficking circuit, Cruella; serial killer, Rumple Gold; and even Regina’s mother, Cora, who’d invited people from the Russian Mafia into Storybrooke, once.

The only trouble Emma had for herself, these days, was pickpocket Will Scarlet, and that alone said a lot about how much safer the town finally was.

She released a breath, and turned to knock at Elsa’s door.

The door opened, and Emma’s white blonde best friend grinned wide. “Emma! You actually made it!”

Emma shrugged, throwing her arms around Elsa in a heartfelt hug. They didn’t meet often. “It was long overdue, El.”

“That it was!” Elsa exclaimed, bubbling with energy as she ushered Emma into the sitting room where Mary Margaret was already seated with a glass of lemonade in her hand. When she moved to lock the door, though, she paused with a frown. “Uh, you guys wait for a sec, I think I heard something in the driveway. I’ll go, check it out.”

Emma called out to her, but Elsa had already rushed away. She guiltily bit down on her lip and slumped on the couch next to Mary Margaret.

“What was that?” Mary Margaret asked, raising a brow.

Emma huffed out a breath. “Elsa will kill me if she found out. It was actually—”

“Emma Swan,” came Elsa’s bone-chilling voice, dripping with real _icicles_ , “will you be kind enough to explain why I just saw Liam Jones drive away from my apartment?”

Mary Margaret let out a muffled laugh, and Emma winced. “I’m…actually, my car has gone in for repairs, and—”

“And my ex-boyfriend was the only Deputy that could drop you off?” Elsa cut her, sharply.

Emma winced again, and simply shut her eyes. “I’m sorry, Elsa. I just—”

“It’s been a _year_ , Elsa,” Mary Margaret interrupted in a reproving tone. “Let go of it.”

Elsa rolled her eyes and stamped her feet all the way to the kitchen. “I made mozzarella sticks.”

Emma’s shoulders drooped. “Wow. I’m an idiot. We’re meeting after months, and I’ve already spoiled it.”

Mary Margaret lightly punched her shoulder. “No, you haven’t, Emma. It’s about time Elsa left all this behind. Storybrooke is a small town—how long can she actually go without bumping into Liam?”

“I don’t know.” Emma shrugged, grumpily. “Seems to me that she had managed it pretty nicely, for the past year. And then I literally brought him to her doorstep.”

Mary Margaret let out a small groan. “Is this all we’re gonna talk about, today? You didn’t have your car, you asked for a friend to give you a lift, it’s _okay_.”

Emma pulled a drinking straw out of the wicker basket kept on Elsa’s dining table, and dragging Mary Margaret’s lemonade glass towards her, dunked it in. She moaned after the first sip. “What the fuck, Elsa, this is _heavenly_ ,” she mumbled around the straw.

“As always,” Mary Margaret ruefully added. “I’m so jealous of her efficiency with drinks.”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said, entering the living room with a tray full of mozzarella sticks and chipotle. “Emma. I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s in the past. I should move the fuck on.”

Emma laughed. It was really uncommon for Elsa to curse. “Did you just use the _f-word_ , El? See, MM, our baby’s growing up!” she teased, ducking, when Elsa threw a couch pillow at her. “It’s okay, Elsa. It’s my fault, too. I thought he’d just slip away without you noticing, but…I shouldn’t have brought him, in the first place.”

“Hey, I just realized,” Mary Margaret began, narrowing her eyes at Emma, “that your car had gone down outside Granny’s last night. Right?”

Emma nervously swallowed. She had an idea where this conversation was going, and she really didn’t wanna tell Mary Margaret’s nosy self about her meeting with Killian. The brunette would definitely jump to conclusions, and start planning Emma’s wedding. “Uh huh,” she replied, plucking a mozzarella stick as nonchalantly as she could. “What of it?”

“Emma. You went to the _hospital_ after that!” Mary Margaret looked horrorstruck. “Did you _walk_ all the way there?”

“ _What_?” Elsa gaped at her. “It’s a good twenty miles away, Emma!”

Emma froze. This was the defining moment: she could either lie and pray to God that her best friends didn’t catch her, or she could tell the truth and pray to God that her best friends didn’t make a big deal out of it.

_You let a practical stranger give you a ride, **twice** , Emma. It **is** a somewhat big deal!_

She ignored the voice of her conscience, and let out a small chuckle that she hoped didn’t sound fake. “I’m the _Sheriff_ , guys. I can—”

“Yeah, you’re a police officer, not an _athlete_ ,” Elsa interrupted, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you trying to tell us that you actually walked all those miles? And then back home from the hospital?”

“I—”

“And don’t try to lie about _that_ , either,” Mary Margaret cut in, “because I bumped into Henry on my way here, and he was asking how you got home after you refused to take Robin’s car.”

“Guys!” Emma yelled out, looking at her friends with wide eyes. “Can you stop interrogating me? What I did last night is _my_ business! Being concerned about me is one thing, but being downright nosy and cornering me is not okay!”

She stood up, ignoring Elsa’s gaping mouth and the look of hurt on Mary Margaret’s face, and walked away from them.

“Emma!” Elsa called. “Wait, don’t leave! We’re sorr—”

“No, we’re not,” Mary Margaret snapped, and Emma paused, her back to the two girls. “We’re not sorry for looking out for you, Emma. If you have a problem with that, the please _do_ leave.”

Emma clenched her eyes shut against the hurt she felt.

But then she steeled herself. She wasn’t in the wrong, here. Mary Margaret was being overbearing—had been, since a really long time, too—and it was about time she realized that.

“Was in the process of doing just that, Mary Margaret,” she simply said, before twisting the knob and walking out of Elsa’s apartment.

 

* * *

 

 **_(12.01) Liam_ ** _hey  
**(12.01) Liam** I didn’t cause too much trouble at elsa’s, did I?_

Emma read Liam’s message and shook her head. If only he knew what had happened…

But it wasn’t his fault. Well, it kind of _was_ , because if he hadn’t been lurking in the driveway, Elsa wouldn’t have seen him, and they wouldn’t have had that conversation about her car.

Emma still couldn’t believe she’d fought with her best friends.

She looked down at her phone again.

 **** _no, liam_ **_(13.45)_**  
_it was all okay_ **_(13.45)_  
** _i mean elsa did yell at me, but she let it go easily too **(13.46)**_

**_(13.48) Liam:_** _it was stupid of me to stay behind for a glimpse of her, but emma…  
**(13.48) Liam:** I couldn’t help it_

Emma wryly smiled at that. Liam and Elsa broke up because of some misunderstanding—that Emma, like a good best friend, didn’t prod Elsa to talk about; _unlike another brunette friend of theirs_ —and Liam just never moved on. He hadn’t gone out on a single date, despite the efforts from the entire sheriff’s department.

**_(13.50) Liam:_** _tell me this, emma  
**(13.50) Liam:** is she still seeing that jake guy that has an appearance of more of her twin rather than her lover?_

Emma laughed aloud. _Oh, God_.

 _his name’s “jack” liam_ **_(13.51)_**  
_and no, she’s not w him anymore_ **_(13.51)_  
** _he was prolly some rebound **(13.52)**_

Not “probably a rebound,” Jack was _actually_ a rebound to Elsa. But she didn’t want to tell Liam that. He’d get his hopes up, and Elsa wasn’t at a very emotionally stable point in her life, yet.

 **_(13.53) Liam:_ ** _I’m so glad to learn that!_

Emma narrowed her eyes.

_she never told me what happened bw u guys, but she’s rly hurt liam **(13.53)  
** keep that in mind before u go on w whatever u’re planning **(13.54)**_

**_(13.54) Liam:_  ** _she didn’t tell you?_

_yeah, and i’d rather u didn’t either **(13.55)  
** its ur personal matter **(13.55)**_

**_(13.56) Liam:_  ** _do you mean I shouldn’t have talked to anyone about it, emma?_

Emma rolled her eyes.

_who did u talk to? **(13.57)**_

**_(13.57) Liam:_ ** _my little brother_

Emma drew in a sharp breath. _Killian_.

Even though Liam talked about his brother all the damn time, having him bring Killian up when Emma actually _knew_ what a sexy beast that guy was—well, it was kinda awkward. A _lot_ , in fact. Thank God they were just texting.

She propped an onion ring into her mouth, from the takeaway she’d picked up from Granny’s on her way home.

(And this time, she _had_ actually walked all those miles. And understood that there really was a difference between being a police officer and an athlete.)

 _that’s ok liam_ _(14.02)_  
_he’s ur brother_ **_(14.02)_  
** _i’m not elsa’s sister ( **14.03)**_

 ** _(14.04) Liam:_** _well, my brother gives the best relationship advice_  
_**(14.05) Liam:** even if he doesn’t do relationships all that much_  
_**(14.07) Liam:** as I’ve told you before, he has had some rough past experiences that have made him unenthusiastic about settling down_  
_**(14.08)** **Liam:** and now that he’s here on a visit, he’s planning on picking up some girl again, I can sense it_

Emma bit down on her lip, reading through Liam’s rant and wondering what to say to that. On one hand, she understood Killian’s state of mind, because her own was the exact same. But on the other hand, the way Liam worded “picking some girl up” unsettled her stomach.

_Do **you** wanna be the girl he picks up?_

No. No, she didn’t. And maybe that was the thing.

Last night, she had been imagining what it’d be like if she did hook up with Killian, and she was finding herself pleased with the theoretical results. Of course, with the exception of her friendship with Liam getting endangered.

But when Liam stated exactly how _meaningless_ a one night stand with a girl of their town would be for Killian, Emma suddenly didn’t want to be that girl, at all.

_oh? do you want me to introduce him to ruby? **(14.15)**_

Not that Ruby would actually take him up on that, even if Emma introduced them. Her “friendship” with Doctor Whale was budding. Being the Sheriff had taught her to see things that weren’t very easily observable, and she saw pure longing in the way Ruby eyed the doctor whenever he visited Granny’s Diner.

 ** _(14.17) Liam:_** _I don’t suppose he’d need any assistance, Emma_  
_**(14.17) Liam:** He is a player of fine capacity_  
_**(14.20) Liam:** Besides, he told me he met some girl, yesterday. Seemed to me like he is wishing to pursue her_

“My fucking _God_ ,” Emma lamented putting her phone away.

Now, of course, there was a possibility that Killian had met some other girl that he “wished to pursue.” But something told Emma—that something being the look he’d given her at the end of the night—that it was _her_.

“Honestly? I don’t even know what to ask for, anymore, you evil _fucking_ power!” she yelled, looking skywards. (At the roof of her living room, but it was the sentiment that counted.) “Go on, then. Fuck me over; give it your best!”

She angrily tossed the bags of food into the dustbin, and stomped her way up the stairs to her bedroom.

It had been a horrific day, and because she’d given Robin a week off to take care of his family, Emma had a night shift tonight. Right now, it was the best if she tried to sleep this entire nuisance off and prepare for the long night.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This one has an R-rated-ish something in it? The story's rated M, tho, so if you took care of that, we won't have a problem.

Will Scarlet had attacked the library. _The library_? What the fuck did a thief like him want with books?

Emma had gotten the news the second she stepped into the station at half past ten of the night, her brain half dead after the horribly stressful day she’d had and the scant amount of sleep she’d managed.

“You want us to check the site out, Sheriff?” one of the officers asked, probably pitying her shaggy self.

Emma nodded. “Please do, Leroy. And keep me posted. I have Deputy Robin’s car, out front. I’ll get there if something weird happens.”

(They needed to arrange proper police cars, for real. And soon.)

“Sure thing, Sheriff.”

Leroy took another officer with him, and rushed out of the station. Emma released a deep breath, and leaned back in her seat to relax.

 

* * *

 

They were acting like ravenous wolves in heat, clawing at each other’s clothes—or maybe, horny teenagers making out for the first time, eager to get naked? But it was just—

Emma groaned aloud, her head knocking against the wall behind her when his lips latched onto her collarbones, teeth digging into her flesh, nipping roughly, before his tongue swiped over it, and— _oh, fuck_ —his hands were all over her, gripping, squeezing, _pulling_ , and her fists clenched in his hair, dragging him up to kiss him again, because—

_Oh, God_ , he tasted heavenly, and he kissed like a fucking pro, goddamnit, none of her past lovers could get her off when trying their best, and this guy—this sexy fucking man—was gonna make her orgasm just by biting into her bottom lip, and _motherfucker_ , sucking at her tongue, _holy—_

“ _Killian_ ,” she gritted out, wrapping a naked thigh around his waist, and he got the message, squeezing her butt as he lifted her up to place her heated core directly against—

“ _Ooh_ ,” she moaned out, head thrown back, grinding against his jeans clad erection, and his mouth was then on the tips of breasts, sending her into overdrive when he pulled her closer and pushed against her right there, _yes_ , right there, there, _there_ —

“Emma,” he spoke into her ear, urgently, and she bit down on her lower lip when his tongue swiped over her earlobe, and—

“ _Emma Swan!_ ”

Emma jolted awake.

Wait.

_Awake?_

But she was about to…

She looked around herself, skimmed over Ruby’s concerned eyes and the empty surroundings of the station.

That’s right—she was at the sheriff’s station, _not_ her apartment. And she was definitely not naked.  _Or_ making out with a sexy as sin marine engineer from NYC, Jesus Christ!

She was actually dozing off and having wet dreams about one Killian Jones when she was supposed to be waiting to hear back from Leroy. _Shit_. She needed to arrange for therapy. Did she still have that Hopper guy's number lying around from when David had taken therapy after James' suicide? She'd have to ask Dav—

“Are you okay, Emma?” Ruby softly asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, but Emma flinched away.

Ruby’s eyebrows drew up in confusion, but Emma wasn’t gonna explain. She _couldn’t_ fucking explain! Ruby chose to cautiously step towards the visitors’ chairs kept opposite Emma.

Meanwhile, Emma checked the time on her computer screen.

**_22.51_ **

Huh. So she hadn’t actually gone into deep sleep. Thank God for that. Seeing Ruby, she’d thought, for a moment, that she’d slept through the night

“I’ve been…exhausted, Ruby. Today was a stressful day, and I didn’t catch proper sleep before coming here,” she explained, apologetically. “How come you’re stopping by so late?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to,” Ruby said with raised eyebrows. “I actually called you on your phone, in the evening, but you didn’t pick.” Emma frowned. She’d left her phone lying on her coffee table after her frustrating conversation with Liam, this afternoon. “I just closed the Diner, was planning to swing by your place, but I bumped into that cranky officer of yours—”

“Leroy,” Emma supplied with a chuckle.

“—and he told me that you were here,” Ruby continued without a hitch, “so I came here.”

“You closed up pretty late, tonight,” Emma commented, aware that Granny was in the habit of chasing the customers away when the clock struck nine.

Ruby shrugged a shoulder. “Granny was feeling generous tonight. There was this guy who’s visiting our town, and Granny just indulged in sharing tales about the criminals, here. Probably in hopes of scaring him off. Turns out, he’s a sibling of one of your deputies, and already knows those tales.”

Emma didn’t have to ask which Deputy, because obviously—who else could it be? “Wow,” she mumbled. “So… d’you know where did the guy go after he left?” Ruby short an odd look to her, and Emma almost cursed herself. “I mean, he’s an outsider, and I’m the _Sheriff_. Just wanna make sure he isn’t gonna rob a bank or something.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “He’s a deputy’s _brother_ , Emma. _But—_ given the fact that James was David Nolan’s twin, I get where you’re coming from.” The brunette looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wasn’t exactly listening in to his talk with Granny, but I suppose he mentioned going to the library. Seems pretty harmless to me.”

Emma nodded. It was harmless, alright. For the _town_. But to Emma, it was a completely different story.

Killian had dropped her off the library, it made sense that he’d look for her there. Especially after Liam deduced that he was “wishing to pursue her.”

She had a flashback to the steamy dream she’d had.

Emma shook herself out of it quickly, though, because Ruby was speaking something.

“…and, like, it’s always a big deal for me, but I kinda wanna celebrate with everyone. What do you think?” She smiled, wide, and Emma stared back blankly.

_What did she think about **what** , exactly?_

Ruby laughed. “You totally zoned out, didn’t you?”

Emma gave her a sheepish smile. “My brain isn’t working properly. I’m sorry.”

Ruby simply shook his head. “It’s okay, Emma. I’d suggest you stop taking these night shifts, because you obviously don’t get any sleep during the day.” She pointed at the bags under Emma’s eyes. “Those weren’t there a week ago.”

Emma self-consciously swiped a hand beneath her eyes. “No, no, it’s fine. A deputy is off work, for some time. I’ll relax when he comes back. You were saying?”

Ruby released a breath. “Granny’s birthday is on this Wednesday. It’ll be her seventieth. And—”

“You wanna plan a huge celebration with everyone,” Emma finished for her, smiling. “I think it’s a great idea, Ruby! She’ll love it!”

Ruby’s cheeks colored, and she smiled. “You’ll help me plan it? You know I don’t have many friends, Emma, and—I totally don’t wanna be a burden, because you already look pretty stressed out, and—”

“ _Ruby_ ,” Emma cut her rambling off. “This isn’t about being friends with you—it’s more about caring for Granny. And there are a _lot_ of people in Storybrooke who do that. I’ll spread the word, if you want, and Granny will have the best surprise of her life.”

Ruby’s eyes were shining with what seemed like held back tears as she leant across the table to grip at Emma’s hands. “Thank you so much, Emma.”

“You’re always welc—” The department’s phone shrilled loudly, and both of them jumped. Emma placed a hand on her heart, taking a breath. “That thing will fucking _kill_ me, someday,” she muttered, moving to receive it. “Storybrooke Sheriff Department, how may I help you?”

“Sheriff!” Leroy cried out from the other side. “Turns out that Scarlet had something tucked away in the apartment above the library. Probably a chest full of his steals. He ran away with whatever it was.”

Emma slumped in her seat. What the hell was this man _after_? “That’s just fucking fantastic,” she grumbled. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yes. Kind of. There’s a man, here, who seems to be our thief’s…accomplice,” Leroy hesitantly said, and Emma heard muffled curses in the background. “Should we bring him in for questioning?”

Emma sat straighter, nodding at Ruby when she rose to take her leave. “Yes, Deputy. Any lead could be important.”

She was about to disconnect the call when she suddenly recalled what Ruby had told her, moments ago: Killian had planned on visiting the library.

Her senses prickled with suspicion. “Wait a second,” she said, quickly, and Ruby stopped, too, probably misunderstanding who Emma was talking to. “That man doesn’t go by the name _Killian Jones_ , does he?”

Ruby’s eyebrows flew off her forehead, and Emma bit her tongue. _Oh, fuck_. She’d made a good show of pretending to not know who Ruby was talking about, earlier, and had snagged off information about his whereabouts under the pretense of “town’s safety.” And now, she’d gone and outright said the man’s _name_.

_Wow, Emma. Really **bright** , aren’t you?_

“Actually, that’s exactly what the man’s called, Sheriff,” Leroy uncertainly said.

Emma shut her eyes, massaging her forehead when Ruby settled back in her seat, a challenging look on the brunette’s face. “ _Leroy_ ,” Emma groaned into the phone, “do _not_ bring that man in. He’s a guest in our town, who…who’s also Deputy Jones’ brother. Release him. _Immediately_.”

“Oh, _Oh!_ As you say, Sheriff!” Leroy quickly supplied before hanging up.

Emma placed the receiver back onto the landline, and twiddled with her thumbs. “So…”

“So you know his name, _and_ which deputy happens to be his sibling,” Ruby observed, her eyes glinting with amusement. “And yet you pretended to not know who I was talking about. What’s going on, Sheriff Swan?”

Emma nibbled on her upper lip, feeling like a kid caught with her hand down a candy jar. “I… It’s nothing, really, Ruby. I just… _saw_ him around here… Nothing much, really.”

“Didn’t sound like _nothing much_ ,” Ruby teased, her eyebrows waggling. “So. Did you hit that?”

“ _Ruby!_ ” Emma gaped at the girl, horrified. “No, I _did not_ , and… what—what kind of vocabulary is that?”

Ruby laughed, flipping her hair back. “All kind of people visit the Diner. I pick up terms from here and there.”

Emma looked away, mortified. “I just _met_ him.  _O_ _nce_. And didn’t even tell him my name. _Or_ that I’m the Sheriff.”

Ruby shook her head, a mischievous smile on her face. “Get to planning, Emma. I’ll bug you more about this, later. After Gran’s birthday.”

Emma bid her goodbye with a grimace. What the _hell_ kind of day was today?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell kinda day, indeed, Ems! I wish my Sundays were half this eventful. *sigh*
> 
> Please leave a **Kudos** if you haven't, drop me a **review** to make my day, and **Bookmark** this to keep up with the updates, because their frequency is gonna lower, pretty soon.
> 
> xo!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have exams, next week. Expect delayed updates.  
> But! I have a two-parter coming up (the first being already finished) so that'll keep y'all occupied.
> 
> (PS. Refer to the fifth chapter for a recap of Emma's text conversation with Liam.)
> 
> Read on!

Emma woke up after noon, on Monday morning—technically Monday _afternoon_ , but whatever—feeling pretty relaxed despite a restless sleep—thanks to the dreams she had about Killian, not unlike the one she’d had back at the Sheriff’s station. But at least she didn’t have any time to think about her fight with her two best friends.

With a groan of relief, she rolled her neck both ways and got out of bed. After a break of almost 24 hours, she better check her phone.

She was still on the staircase when it started to ring.

“Wow. That’s not spooky at all,” she muttered, rushing to check it.

She bent at the waist, squinting at the screen, and froze when she read the name of her caller. Why was Mary Margaret calling her? Wasn’t the hard headed brunette supposed to be mad at Emma?

Biting her lip, Emma sank into the couch next to the table, contemplating whether to pick it up or not. It stopped ringing, the next second, making her decision for her. And then it pinged with a voicemail.

With tentative hands, Emma lifted her phone off the table and pressed _play_ on what was obviously Mary Margaret’s voicemail.

“Emma! It’s me, Mary Margaret. Look, I know we aren’t on the best terms, right now, but… this is urgent. Elsa… she needs you, _us_ , she needs her best friends... Emma, this is more important than our egos. Get to Elsa’s apartment as fast as you can.”

Emma sat stunned for a few moments.

Elsa was in _trouble_? She’d just met the girl, yesterday! What the hell could’ve happened in the span of a day? Whatever it was, Emma couldn’t just wait around for it to unfold, because, like Mary Margaret said: if Elsa needed her, Emma wasn’t gonna let a clash of egos keep her from her best friend.

She quickly rung Leroy up.

“Sheriff?” said a confused voice as soon as the phone was picked up.

Emma exhaled. “Happy. Deputy, where is Leroy? I’d asked him to pick my car up from the mechanic’s.”

“Yes, Sheriff, and that’s exactly what he’s doing, actually. He’s been gone for more than fifteen minutes, now.”

Emma exhaled nodding. “That’s good. I’ll…wait for him.”

Disconnecting the call, she tossed her phone aside and hurried to her room for a change of clothes. Her inner law enforcer was scowling at the thought of leaving her house in pajamas.

 

* * *

 

It was a miracle that Emma hadn’t broken any traffic rules on her way to Elsa’s. Or Leroy’s neck, for that matter, when the idiot had shown up with her car with bearing a flat fucking tire, and delaying her further.

Rolling her eyes, Emma shoved those thoughts aside and quickly leapt out of her car, rushing towards Elsa’s apartment.

She banged on the door, only just remembering that she hadn’t responded to Mary Margaret’s message in any way. _Wow._ Why the hell didn’t Emma think to call her back for more details on what was wrong with Elsa?

The door flew open, and Mary Margaret’s concerned face brightened up on seeing her. “Oh, thank God you came, Emma!”

“Yeah, uh, I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your—”

“It’s fine,” Mary Margaret cut Emma apology off. “Just…come in, and talk to that stupid girl.”

Emma rushed in after the brunette, stopping when they’d reached Elsa’s bedroom.

“ _Fuck_ , what happened?” Emma gasped out at the sight of Elsa cuddled into a ball, her eyes red and swollen with tears. Her cheeks were still wet, she was _still_ crying. “Elsa?”

“It’s Liam,” Mary Margaret supplied. “They… Elsa had been sleeping with him, all this time.”

Emma turned her wide eyes to Mary Margaret. “What the—”

“And that affair she had with Jack?” Mary Margaret continued, her lips pressed into a straight line displaying her annoyance. “It was all a ruse to fool the two of us into thinking that she was moving on.”

“What— _why_ would you do that, Elsa?” Emma exclaimed, not making head or tail out of the situation. “And what the hell’s happened now?”

“It’s a long story,” Mary Margaret said on an exhale. “D’you want a cup of coffee to go with it?”

“I’d take one, actually,” Elsa mumbled, uncoiling herself enough to sit up with her knees pressed against her chest. “Please.”

While Mary Margaret went away, Emma sat down next to the other blonde. “Elsa… Why did you hide everything from us?”

Elsa closed her eyes, brushing away an errant drop of tear with the back of her hand. “It was… oh, God. Okay,” she mumbled, composing herself, and then looked at Emma. “After Liam and I broke up,” her voice wobbled, and Emma wrapped a hand around hers, “he contacted me a week later. He apologized, said he made a mistake, all those sort of things…and—and I forgave him. Took him back.”

Emma clicked her tongue. “You should’ve told us, El.”

“I wanted to! And I would have, but…” Elsa faltered, shaking her head. “That same evening, you both came here with a pint of ice-cream, and _so_ much love and support. You both told me to never forgive him if, even if he eventually grew to regret his decision. I didn’t have the heart to tell you guys what I’d already done. I just… I got scared, Emma. Of what you two’d think.”

Emma’s heart broke. _This_ —this was what happened when best friends turned into judgmental assholes. This was why she’d fought with Elsa and Mary Margaret.

“I lied to you, my _best friends_ , for him, and now…now that bastard has the guts to—” Elsa broke off on a sob. “He was here, last night,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And this morning, before he left, he… Emma, he broke it off. He—he said there is someone _else_. He said he’s finally found someone he cares about and…” Elsa sniffled, shaking her head with such dejection that Emma felt her eyes water. “Emma, he said he’s fallen in love again!”

Elsa broke into sobs, and Emma gathered her in a hug.

 

* * *

 

Mary Margaret had made hot chocolate for everyone, because, apparently, Elsa was out of coffee. Leaving an asleep Elsa be, Emma had stepped out into the living room with Mary Margaret, still processing what Elsa had told her.

Mary Margaret nudged her when she’d been quiet for too long. “You okay?”

Emma nodded as they both sat down on the same couch they’d fought on. “I’m just…trying to make sense of everything.”

Mary Margaret let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s bizarre. She kept seeing him behind our backs, for some unconceivable reasons, and…see where that’s landed her.”

Emma frowned. “No.” Mary Margaret raised her brows in surprise, and Emma amended, “I mean… _that_ isn’t what I can’t make sense of.”

“Oh? Then what is it? Shocked that your Deputy friend is actually an A-hole?”

Emma didn’t take Mary Margaret up on her bait, instead ignored her to fish her phone out of her pocket, and scroll down to her text conversation with Liam. Then she handed her phone to a bewildered Mary Margaret. “Read this. And tell me if you understand what’s going on.”

Multiple emotions flashed on the brunette’s face, ranging from confusion to outright anger. When she handed the device back, there was fire in her eyes. “What the hell is this son of a bitch playing at?” Mary Margaret hissed out between gritted teeth.

Emma shrugged a shoulder. “That’s what I can’t understand. Either he was playing me, that day… or, maybe, there was some reason behind why he said what he did to Elsa, this morning?”

Mary Margaret shook her head, her jaw tight. “Emma, can you do me a favor?”

Emma blinked. “Of course, MM. What do you want?”

“Can you drive me to Liam’s? I have this urgent craving to give him a piece of my mind.”

Emma let out a small sigh. “MM, that’s not the way to—”

“Do _not_ , argue with me, Emma. Not when _you_ care shit-all about Elsa!”

“Whoa!” Emma turned to look at the brunette, frowning. “Where’s that coming from? You think I don’t care? I wouldn’t _be_ here, if I didn’t!”

“Yeah, and going by the way you couldn’t storm out of here fast enough, the last time, I’m actually surprised that you bothered to show up!”

Emma stood up, breathing heavily. “Mary Margaret. This is not the time or place to sort out our problems. We—”

“Don’t you _see_ it, Emma?” the brunette shrieked. “ _This_ is what happens when friends don’t look out for each other! This is what happens when friends stop being _nosy_ , as you put it!”

Emma froze in her place, taken aback. “You think this happened because we were not there? For fuck’s sake, MM, this happened because we were way too much up in her business! She couldn’t tell us about reconciling with Liam, because she was scared about what we’d say!”

“Are you really that blind, Emma?” Mary Margaret snapped. “That girl was in _love_. Still is. She was seeing things from rose-tinted glasses. We were supposed to be the rational ones who told her that Liam was manipulating her. We could’ve prevented today from happening, Emma, if we would have been attentive enough to notice what she was going through, _before_!”

Emma sat back down. This screaming match was gonna have no end. Mary Margaret wasn’t gonna listen, and Emma wasn’t gonna agree to her ridiculous claim that practically prying into Elsa’s life would have kept her safe from this heartbreak.

“What? Don’t have a response to that?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m not gonna agree with you, and you’re not gonna agree with me. Can we just drop this?”

“Wow,” Mary Margaret scoffed, but then didn’t say anything for some time. After some time, she spoke again. “So, are you going to take me to Liam’s, or do I have to disturb David from his campaign planning?”

Emma shut her head, dipping her head in defeat. “Do you promise to only use your words?”

Mary Margaret tossed a smirk at her. “My boyfriend’s running for _Mayor_ , Emma. I wouldn’t do anything to bring him bad publicity.”

With a small chuckle, Emma grabbed her keys and stood up.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Killian in this one, but this was crucial for the plot.
> 
> So. Whose case do you support, Emma or Mary Margaret?
> 
>  _(Don't forget to Bookmark, bc the updates' frequency is gonna go down!)_  
>  xo!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. My exams end this Sunday! Yayy!
> 
> This is entirely Captain Swan, y'all!

The last thing Emma could have expected was bumping into Killian Jones on her way to the library, that evening. Well, not really, because the last she’d heard of him, he’d been at the library, so…

But, still. It was completely out of the blue, and Emma was totally unprepared. Well, luckily, she wasn’t in her Sheriff’s uniform. And Killian, too, for his credit, wasn’t in his usual vintage leather, biker’s costume. He wore a fitted flannel, actually, paired with an equally fitted pair of jeans, and Emma had to clear her throat twice before she could speak.

“Killian. Fancy meeting you…where I last met you.”

Killian’s expressions morphed into that flirtatious, panty-melting smolder of his, with a small smirk. “Aye, love. Because, you weren’t quite comfortable with the idea of taking me home.” His eyebrows did a jump with the entendre, and Emma playfully shoved his shoulder. “So. No sweaters and leggings, today?”

Emma laughed, her cheeks heating up when he held library’s the door open for her. Then she brushed a hand over her red leather jacket. “I thought you had an affinity for leather?”

“Oh, I do,” he murmured, his lips grazing the back of her head, and Emma’s entire body convulsed with the sparks the contact sent through her.

Yep. There it was—they were _definitely_ werewolf mates.

“And,” he continued, now standing at a safe distance away from her when she turned her head to look at him, “I didn’t peg you for a girly girl, either way. Well, except for the swan necklace, of course.”

Emma laughed, her hand subconsciously brushing the locket rested upon the open V of her dress shirt. “As a matter of fact, my mother gave this to me. So, yes. I’m one hundred percent not girly, you got that right.”

“Birthday gift from mum, huh,” Killian mumbled, and then pointed at a platinum ring on his left hand’s pinky. “Mine gifted me this on my fifteenth birthday. And then she passed, and… I just never could outgrow it.”

Emma’s heart jumped at the love shining in his eyes as he looked at the ring. “I’m sorry for your loss, Killian,” she whispered.

He looked up with a smile. “Thanks, lass, but…I think she’s in a much better place, now. Her cancer was eating her away. And…” He exhaled, his eyes turning glassy for a moment before he blinked. “Can you believe that it happened the day after my birthday?”

Emma winced, her hand instinctively reaching out to hold his in a gesture of comfort. He smiled. Attempting to sway the subject to something lighter, Emma looked down at her necklace, again. “This one wasn’t a birthday gift, actually,” she began, well aware how much magnitude imparting this particular aspect of her life to him held. Yet she couldn’t stop herself. “I… I wasn’t born in Storybrooke. I lived in Augusta, with my parents, and, well… they fought a lot.” His eyebrows drew together. She shrugged. “I put up with it. Till I turned _seventeen_.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t mean…”

Emma nodded, biting down on her lip when he let out an astonished laugh. “I couldn’t handle the nosebleeds seat to how my mom put up with dad’s nonsense, and I ran away on the night of my High School Prom. And came here.”

Killian sidled closer to her, something that seemed suspiciously like _awe_ shining in his eyes. “That’s some adventure you had, swan. And? Did you end up finding your way back to your mum?”

Emma smiled fondly at the memory. “Oh, I didn’t. But _she_ did. Mom’s one of the best criminal lawyers in the entirety of Maine. She obviously had some sources here, but…she kinda let me be, keeping an eye from a distance, until she’d won the divorce battle with my dad. _Then_ she attacked, showing up at my shared studio apartment at two o’clock of the night. She dragged me back to Augusta, kept me grounded for a week, and then…” Emma laughed. “And then she told me she was proud of me for taking responsibility of my life. _That_ ’s when she gave me this.”

Killian was smiling at her when she looked back at him, and Emma suddenly felt way more exposed than she had in a long time. She cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair, awkwardly.

“Did I reveal too much? Is this…was it odd? Do you think I’m weird, now?” she mumbled, her face contorting when he laughed.

“Oh, no, love, I…you’re damn adorable, is what you are. And, yes, you might have revealed a lot, but it wouldn’t be half bad if you told me your name to go with it.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, thinking about it. _Really_ thinking about it. After the fiasco that’d happened with his brother, how long could she conceal her identity for? And why did she want to do it, in the first place? So what if she was the Sheriff? He didn’t even live here, to begin with! _And_ there wasn’t any harm hooking up with a woman who knew how to take charge, was there?

Emma pulled her lips in at the last thought that crossed her mind. So, was it decided, then? She _was_ going to have sex with him? _You’re a mess, Emma Swan_.

She looked up at him again. Killian’s eyes held some sort of a defeated look in them that didn’t sit well with her. “You won’t believe the irony of what you’ve been calling me, Killian,” she murmured, leaning closer to him. “My name, Mister, _is_ Swan. Emma Swan,” she whispered in his ear, her lips almost brushing against his earlobe, thanks to her high heeled boots.

She leant back to observe his face, and—

He looked alarmed, sort of freaked out, and his face was devoid of all color. She frowned. “Jones? Did you not like my name, or…?” she joked, but stopped when his expressions turned outright panicky. “Killian, what’s going on?” She used her Sheriff voice, and with a start, he seemed to jolt out of whatever he’d been thinking about.

“N—nothing, I just… Nothing. So, now I know, huh? _Emma_ ,” he tried, and her insides shivered with how amazing her name sounded in his silken voice and sexy as fuck accent. “Emma Swan. Alright. _Swan…_ Uh, is that why you have that necklace?”

Emma nodded with a smile. “Yeah, kind of. Swan’s my mother’s maiden name. I dropped my dad’s when they separated, so… Mom got emotional about it, and stuff.”

Killian grinned at her, that cute boyish grin of his. “Well, _Swan_ , with a capital _S_ , now that I know some really interesting facts about you, _including_ your beautiful name…would you like to peruse the library with me?”

Emma threw her head back and laughed. “I actually came here to get some cookbooks for Ruby—y’know, Granny Lucas’ granddaughter?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “You might not have been born here, Emma, but I was.”

Emma internally swooned at his effortless use of her name, and then internally smacked herself upside the head. Was she actually going all googly-eyed, teenage-girly on him?

 _Fuck her life_ , indeed!

“Uh, so, it’s Granny’s birthday, the day after—”

“I know _that_ , too. I visit Granny’s diner regularly, love,” he interrupted her with a cheeky grin. “Ruby told me.”

“ _Ruby wants to cook something special for Granny_ ,” Emma hurriedly spoke, smiling victoriously. “Didn’t know that, did you?”

Killian shook his head, eyes shining with mirth. “I did manage to deduce that from your mention of cookbooks.”

Emma scowled at him. “Wow, what a right gentleman you are, Killian!”

His eyebrows jumped, and his lips curved into his characteristic lascivious grin. “Aye, dear. I really am. Why, would you like to make certain for yourself?”

Her cheeks flaming, she pushed past him to get to the cookbooks isle. “I’ve got work to do,” she chided him without heat, unable to maintain eye contact with him when he looked at her with his eyebrows hooding his eyes like _that_.

“Won’t you also give me your number, love?” he murmured, walking up to lean against a bookshelf.

“Number, huh?” Emma’s eyes widened, but she still didn’t meet his gaze. “You’re pretty straightforward, Mister Jones.”

Killian flashed a toothy grin at her when she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’m a guest in town, Swan. Don’t have many friends around here. Help a poor man settle in?”

Emma frowned. Something Liam had told her about him and Killian going to High School in Storybrooke came to the forefront of her head, but she pushed it back. At this point, she wasn’t really sure what everything Liam had ever said to her meant.

“Alright, poor man,” she simply exhaled, and forwarded a hand to accept Killian’s phone.

He produced it with a flourish, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“I’m saving it under _swan_ , because you seem to be taken with that,” she said, biting down on her lower lip when he chuckled—all low and throaty and _unfair_.

She handed his phone back, and he looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “I didn’t think you’d actually follow through.” She shot him a look. “I could still be a serial killer, you know?” he teased, referencing to the conversation they’d had the night they met.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Trust me, Killian, Even if you _were_ a serial killer, I could protect myself very well.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Is that right? Sometimes you scare me, Swan.”

Emma laughed, shoving his shoulder with the book in her hand. “I really do have work, here. Ruby will have a heart attack if she doesn’t have a recipe finalized by tomorrow.” She walked farther down the aisle, hinting him to leaving her alone. (Because his eyes—and his blue, _blue_ gaze—did things to her. Things that didn’t let her concentrate.) “Go look for whatever you came here for, Killian!” she yelled over her shoulder.

It might have been just her imagination, but she felt like she heard him say something like, “I already found her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? xo!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there were a few plot holes and typing errors in the previous chapter, that I've now edited. (I was in a hurry while posting that one, smh.)
> 
> The second (and final) installment of the other fic is gonna be up pretty soon, too! Now that I have so much time.
> 
> Oh, and, this chapter has accidentally become a bit too large. Sorry?

Killian wanted to stay back at the library when Emma left with Ruby’s cookbooks in her hands, and though she didn’t really understand _why_ , she was too preoccupied with the text messages on her phone to quiz him about it.

**_(19.03) MM:_ ** _Your car’s at Liam’s  
**(19.03) MM:** I’m walking to Granny’s, Ruby has called in an SOS_

Emma released a low groan, stepping out of the library, and stood aside to quickly shoot a response back.

_yeah, i’ll be there in 5 too **(19.43)**_

She scrolled down to Liam’s text, then, and resisted the urge to groan even louder.

**_(19.32) Liam:_ ** _Mary Margaret left your car at my place. May I take it down to the station with me? I’ll drop it back to you, tomorrow morning._

_fine_ **(19.45)**  
_and don’t bother dropping it **(19.45)**_ **  
**_i’ll probably swing by the station tom afternoon, i’ll pick it up **(19.46)**_

With a deep breath, Emma pocketed her phone and started to walk down the street to Granny’s, as fast as she could.

It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ trust Ruby—because she did—but Emma was aware that Ruby would have no reason to not talk about what had happened between the two girls at the station, last night, if the topic came up. (Which was a great possibility, because Mary Margaret had just come from Liam’s!) And, now, with all the shitty things that happened vis-à-vis Liam, Emma didn’t even wanna think about how Mary Margaret would go off if she got to know about Emma’s interactions with his younger brother.

_Oh, God. This situation is exhausting_.

Emma quickened her pace, repeatedly telling herself to not panic. Ruby was an observant person, and she _had_ to have noticed Emma’s hesitation over this whole subject.

Emma almost tore the ‘ _closed_ ’ sign of the diner off, when she barged through the door.

Two pairs of surprised eyes—(belonging to the only two people present in the otherwise empty eatery)—looked towards her from the bar. Emma grinned at her two brunette fiends. “Hey, guys.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow at Emma’s panting self, and Mary Margaret simply took her books from her hands when Emma almost slumped into the stool next to her. “Did you _run_ , here, Emma?” Mary Margaret asked, pushing the heavy stack of books towards Ruby.

Emma huffed out a breath, “oh, God.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to even out her breathing pattern. “Yes? Oh. No, I didn’t run, MM. But I did realize that the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department desperately needs police cars.”

Ruby laughed. “Oh, yeah? Talk to Hyde about it, then. The Mayor and the town Sheriff are the two people with the most authority, Emma. If some change has to be brought about, you two’ll be the ones to set it off.”

Mary Margaret smiled, looking at Emma with a sly glint in her eyes. “ _Or_ , you can wait for David to take over, and he’ll arrange everything without you having to petition for it.”

Emma smiled back, ignoring Ruby’s snort. She knew their fight wasn’t fully sorted out yet, but it was good to see her best friend smile at her. She’d missed the positive look of love that was characteristic to Mary Margaret. Come to think of it, Mary Margaret _had_ been behaving unlike herself, for the past few days. Whether it was stress because of the entire David’s campaign thingy, or some other reason, Emma couldn’t say for sure.

“So. What was the SOS, Rubes?” Emma questioned.

“Oh. I pulled a favor with August Booth and he promised to print out invitations for Wednesday, overnight. _If_ I could get the designs to him by seven of the evening. I needed to design them in a record time.” Ruby smiled at Mary Margaret. “Which, thanks to her, I managed with a little extended timeline, and a little Mary Margaret Blanchard-special, sweet smiles.” Ruby frowned at the other brunette, then, sliding two mugs of delicious smelling cocoa towards the two of them. “I hadn’t actually thought you’d come, though. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

Mary Margaret gave her a look, and Emma chuckled into her mug of chocolate. “My boyfriend’s running for Mayor. I’m on a _leave_ , Ruby.”

Ruby held her hands up in defeat, pulling a stool to settle down on the other side of the bar, opening up one of the cookbooks Emma had brought in, while Emma herself smirked at Mary Margaret’s smug expressions. “Regina’s being lenient with her Principal-y duties,” Emma teased, taking another sip from her mug.

“She’s occupied with her motherly ones, give her a break,” Ruby mumbled, already appearing to be pretty engrossed in the recipe she was reading, if the way she was frowning in concentration was anything to go by.

Emma saw the window of opportunity, and lowering her voice a notch, leant slightly towards Mary Margaret. “So… what did you say to Liam? Did he explain anything?”

Ruby looked up, confused gaze connecting to Emma’s, but when Emma passed her a tight smile, Ruby—in a true Ruby-esque fashion—simply rolled her eyes and went back to her reading.

Mary Margaret, though, wouldn’t meet Emma’s eyes, at all. Emma raised her eyebrows and nudged the brunette, feeling impatient. “MM?”

Releasing a small breath, Mary Margaret put her mug down and intertwined her fingers on the countertop. Emma squinted at the obvious distress on the brunette’s face. What the hell was going on?

“Mary Margaret, what—”

“ _Emma_ ,” she finally responded, shutting her eyes. “He…talked about his reasons.”

Emma wanted to bang her head against the counter. Or Mary Margaret’s, if she could get away with that. (Which, knowing the woman, she most definitely couldn’t.) “ _Elaborate_?” she managed to spit out, frowning openly, now.

Mary Margaret had moved from being fidgety to blatant exasperated. “It’s not my secret to tell, Emma. Talk to him yourself if you wanna know,” she snapped at a gaping Emma before grabbing her handbag from the counter and hopping off the stool.

Ruby stood up in alarm. “Mary Margaret, what—” She cut herself off when the other brunette simply rushed out of the diner. Then she turned to look at Emma. “Emma…what the _hell_ am I missing? You two are fighting?”

Emma shut her eyes, nodding slowly. “It’s a…long story. But,” she continued, looking up, “if you get me a shot of single malt—I’ll talk.”

Ruby smirked at her.

 

* * *

 

It was past midnight when Emma got home, tired and more than a little buzzed.

She fell into the couch in her living room, and after extracting her phone from its pocket, tossed her jacket aside. The tepid temperature of her house—mixed with the alcohol in her veins—was creating way too much warmth for her to handle.

She checked her phone, and then did a double take. She had two text messages from an unknown number. _Three guesses who?_

**_(21.47) Unknown Number:_ ** _Swan.  
**(21.47) Unknown Number:** Why am I spotting your little Bug parked outside the Sheriff’s Station?_

Emma groaned aloud, grabbing a water bottle that she’d luckily left lying on the coffee table. She gulped down a hefty amount. Then she looked back at her phone and saved his number.

_your brother took it when i left it at his place **(00.27)**_

**_(00.31) Killian:_ ** _Oh, right.  
**(00.31) Killian:** He has a night shift, tonight. I’d forgotten._

Emma laughed at his proper spellings and capitalizations and even _punctuations_. And she’d thought texting with Liam was bad.

**_(00.32) Killian:_ ** _Isn’t it cute, love, how you figured out who the text message was from even without any real attestation from my end?_

_believe it or not jones, the way u type is telling enough **(00.33)**_

**_(00.33)_ ** _Is there something wrong with it, Swan?_

_nah, its just_ **(00.34)**  
_cute **(00.34)  
** in ur words **(00.34)**_

**_(00.35)_ ** _Ha! Do you realize you just complimented me, love?_

_what if i do? **(00.35)**_

**_(00.35)_ ** _Whoa, there!  
**(00.35)** Are you flirting with me, Swan?_

_what if i am? **(00.36)**_

Emma sat up from her slouch, wide eyes looking at her phone’s screen. She dumped it into her lap, and dropped her face in her palms. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! You did _not_ just send that message, Emma Swan! What the fucking hell is _wrong_ with you, you fucking _idiot_!”

Emma had barely taken a breath after her little self-cursing session, when her phone started vibrating. And not a notification alert— _buzz, buzz—_ vibration either. It just went _buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz_ fucking _buzz_ , and it didn’t stop.

Someone was calling her. _Again:_ _three fucking guesses **who**!_

Grimacing, Emma peered at her phone, and sure enough, it was the very same person she’d been texting. The very same person she’d fucking _flirted_ with, like a clueless fucking teenager.

Still, she collected the remnants of her self-esteem, and swiped the green icon. She breathed in as she brought the phone to her ear. “Killian?”

“Swan,” he responded in a voice coarser than his usual—( _as if his voice wasn’t thick and delectable enough, already_ )—probably because it was sleep addled. “Are you _drunk_?”

Emma blinked. _Well, that was unexpected_. “Uh, no I’m…I’m fine,” she expertly responded, not accepting her weakness but not lying, either.

“I never said you weren’t, love.” He sounded amused, and she rolled her eyes. “But it would help me infer your last text message with much more ease if I know that you were drunk while typing it.”

Emma smiled to herself, shutting her eyes as she moved to a more comfortable position on the couch. “Fine, _yes_. I did have more than a couple drinks. And it might’ve had a hand in that text,” she accepted, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“I see,” he mumbled, and her drunken brain spotted something akin _disappointment_ in his voice. “May I dare ask what brought about this drinking spree on a workday?”

Emma let out a slow breath. “It’s just…a friend. She’s my best friend. And we’ve been fighting.”

Killian hummed in response. After a few seconds’ thoughtful silence, he spoke again. “And who is at fault?”

“We _both_ are. And we’re both stubborn, too, so… None of us is gonna be apologizing anytime soon.” She shook her head.

He laughed. “Well, that seems to be an issue. Do you wish to talk about it, Emma?”

Maybe it was alcohol that set her tongue loose. (Because Emma Swan didn’t open up to _friends_ that well, let alone people she’d met hardly a week ago—the conversation she had with Ruby an hour ago, notwithstanding.) Or maybe it was his use of her name, her _first_ name, that triggered something in her; something that made her want to bare her heart to him.

Seriously. Why did her name sound so _fucking_ amazing when he said it? It couldn’t have been the accent, because Liam saying her name didn’t have this effect on her.

Hmm.

Maybe it was Killian’s _voice?_

Or, maybe, just _maybe_ , it was the fact that she could imagine him saying her name—imagine his startling blue orbs looking at her from under his thick brows that hooded his eyes just _right_ , darkening them a shade or two, and made her wanna grab his collar and pull him in to press her lips against his.

(His lips had some role in the tail of that fantasy, too. He licked them so _much_ ; they always looked pink, and plump, and wet and so _fucking_ inviting.)

“And then,” Emma concluded her account, “Mary Margaret storms out, and I decide to drown my sorrows in a scotch and Ruby’s patient ears.”

“Well, that all sounded terrible, Swan,” he responded with a touch of sympathy in his tone.

Emma blinked, then, feeling chagrined that he’d switched to her surname again. But then she smiled, realizing that this wasn’t just her surname he said—it was kind of his pet name for her. Because he’d been calling her that since before he even _knew_ her name.

“And…you have no idea what she talked to my brother about?” he questioned, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“Nope, sorry, Captain.”

He chuckled. “And you won’t tell me what the initial dispute was on the subject of?”

Emma thought about Elsa, and Liam, and Elsa _and_ Liam, and shook her head. It was too much work, and she already felt worn out from telling the previous story. “You got that right, Jones,” she muttered, shutting her eyes and nestling further into the couch.

“Uh, may I ask something else of you?” Killian began after a beat of silence, sounding hesitant.

Emma frowned, but chose to not open her eyes. “Yeah, I guess?”

“This…Elsa that you talked of… She doesn’t happen to be the lass my brother was in a relationship with, a year back, does she?”

_Now_ Emma’s eyes sprung open. Liam’s text messages about having talked to hi s little brother about Elsa popped up in her mind. “Yes, she does, as a matter of fact. But…is that what he told you? That they were together, a _year_ ago?

“Aye, love. Wait… Why do you sound so suspicious?”

Emma scoffed, sitting up. “Your brother is a _bastard_ , Mister Jones, who’s been playing with my best friend’s heart for God-knows-what reason,” she hissed into the phone.

“I…am not sure I quite understand, Swan.” He _sounded_ confused, too. “Why are you bringing this up, now, after so much time has passed? When he is finally on his way to someone else?”

Emma felt like the veins in her forehead were about to explode, they throbbed _that_ bad with her anger. _She_ was about to explode, _God_! (And this was probably not the kind of conversation to have with Liam’s brother at nearly two o’clock of the morning, but whatever. She could always blame it on the drinks.) “ _So much time_ , Killian? I don’t think so. Do you know your brother’s been lying to you? Do you know that he’d been sleeping with Elsa _for a year_ , behind everyone’s back, while they both pretended to be on bad terms?”

Killian was silent for more than a few seconds, and Emma had to pull the phone away from her ear to check if he’d hung up. But then he gritted out a low, “Bloody hell.”

“Exactly. And what’s worse is that he broke up with her for _real_ , yesterday, shattering her heart by telling her that he’s in _love_ with someone else! And by the way, that was the reason behind the… what did you call it, _dispute?_ —between Liam and us.” Emma brought her free hand up to massage at her forehead.

“I gathered that, aye. And…Swan, I don’t know what to say,” Killian responded in a low voice, which Emma figured was saturated with irritation. “He has been telling me about this lass that has feelings for him, for _months_. Although he didn’t say her name because he knew I’d find out her social media profiles and torment him, I’m quite certain that he wasn’t talking about _Elsa_. This is some friend of his, and… He is quite _torn_ about the entire predicament, actually.”

To be honest, Emma didn’t know what to say, either. Some remote part of her had suspected that maybe Liam had done all this to get Elsa jealous—that maybe there was no other girl, and it was all a story to make Elsa accept her actual feelings and bring their relationship out in the open, again.

But what Killian just told her didn’t fit in that theory, _at all_.

What the hell did a girl with feelings for Liam have to do with him breaking up with Elsa? Why couldn’t he simply tell that stupid girl that he was already involved with someone else, like _normal people_?

Oh, right—because she was supposedly a _friend_. And Liam Jones was too nice to outright reject a friend, right?

Emma groaned aloud, pressing her index and middle finger against her temple.

“Alright there, love?” Killian’s soft voice reminded her that he was still on the phone.

Emma exhaled. “Yeah, I’m... I’m _okay_ , just—what the hell is wrong with your brother, Killian? How can he care about some other girl’s feelings over the supposed love of his life? He broke Elsa’s heart.”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Killian breathed out, and Emma’s head was so muddled that she couldn’t even properly appreciate him saying her name, this time. “He hadn’t breathed a word about his…entanglements with Elsa to me, all this time. And he simply brushed it off with an ‘ _it’s complicated_ ,’ when I prodded him further about this girl that fancies him.”

Emma rubbed her eyes, falling back against the arm of the couch. “ _Liam_ is complicated,” she grumbled.

Killian chuckled, a breathy, husky sound that shot right into her like a delicious bullet—causing her stomach to flutter with the remnants, until it just collapsed on itself.

( _Wow._ Was she really that drunk that she was making up poetries, now? Self-destructive, romantic ones, at that?)

“You should get some sleep, now, love. It’s past two,” he murmured then, and Emma suddenly wished that he was whispering this into her ear while he tucked her body against his chest, wrapping his legs around hers and winding an arm round her waist to pull her bottom to rest just—

“Yeah, you’re right!” Emma said in a rush, vigorously shaking her head to knock the stupid image of her— _God forbid_ —freaking _cuddling_ with Killian Jones out of her head. “Good night, Killian. I’ll see you…whenever I see you.”

He let out a muted laugh, again, and Emma had to squeeze her eyes shut, _tight_ , to stop the image of their tangled bodies from making a comeback. “Good night, Emma.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hit 100 Kudos and 10 Bookmarks! Thanks y'all! (:

Emma had just taken the first sip from her cup of coffee, trying to cure her hangover from hell— _Ambrosia, by the way_ —when her doorbell echoed about the house, followed by three loud, impatient raps against the door.

Rolling her eyes, she hopped off the barstool next to her kitchen counter, abandoning the plans of contemplating her last night’s chat with Killian just yet, and padded down the living room to get the door.

Ruby Lucas beamed at her. “Good afternoon, Emma!” she exclaimed, pushing past the blonde to enter the flat, carrying a gigantic box of what seemed like—

“Are those invitations?” Emma asked, frowning at the other girl when she nodded with a huge smile. “How the hell are you so _cheery_? We both had the same amount of drinks, last night,” she mumbled, more than a little bitter as she locked the door and took another large sip from her coffee. “I feel like sleeping for an eternity.”

Ruby laughed. “I felt that way when I woke up. I’m better now. Come on, Emma, it’s past noon!”

Emma let out a reluctant laugh at Ruby’s amused expressions, and then dropped on the couch next to her. “So, what’s the plan? These…” Emma’s brows hiked up when Ruby opened the box. “Wow. They’re actually a lot fewer than what I’d expected.”

Ruby smiled. “Twenty. This is just for my satisfaction. Everyone already knows about the party.” She rolled her eyes, huffing out a laugh. “I was planning that we could distribute these among the establishments. Like the clubs, hospitals, and all. What do you think?”

Emma nodded, slowly, thinking it over. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll have to pick my car up from the station, and then we’re set to go. Where do we begin?”

Ruby gave her a once over. “How about a shower?”

Emma shoved her, laughing. “Give me ten minutes.”

“We’ll begin at the High School,” Ruby yelled as Emma was climbing the stairs.

Emma let out a small sigh. “Whatever you wish, Ruby.”

 

* * *

 

Emma had only really stepped out of the Bug at the Rabbit Hole, (when Lancelot—the bartender—had literally _forced_ them to taste and review the new Peach Schnapps recipe he was experimenting with), and gone through the rest of the journey as Ruby’s driver. She had no intentions of facing a cranky Regina, a love-struck Dr. Whale, or an irritating Deputy Leroy, when her head was so all over the place, already.

“Did you know _Merlin’s Delicacies_ is owned by a guy actually called _Merlin_?” Ruby asked as she slid into the car, and handed Emma a chocolate pop tart. Emma shook her head in response, and Ruby released a huge sigh. “Well, he _is._ And when I asked if I could call him something, you know, _less_ _wacky_ —he gave me _Usher_.”

Emma pursed her lips, chuckling as she started the gas.

“I don’t know if he was aiming to be funny, or if that was his weird way of flirting. It was plain awful, either way,” the brunette mumbled before sticking a Popsicle stick in her mouth. She hummed around it. “This is good. A bit of candy after real hard work is so well deserved, isn’t it?”

Emma eyed the pop tart sitting on the console, and shrugged a shoulder. “If candy is your poison—sure.”

Ruby sat straighter, suddenly, and Emma’s sixth sense told her that she was about to ask for a favor. Emma found herself growing curious, because her senses were never wrong, and—well, Ruby Lucas wasn’t one to ask for favors if it wasn’t extremely dire.

“Spit it out,” Emma said, rolling her eyes when Ruby turned to look at her with wide eyes. “I’m good at reading people, Ruby. So good, I do it for a living.”

Ruby huffed out a small laugh, and eased against the seat again. “Well… I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Emma nodded. “Okay?”

“Yeah, uh… So, Victor asked me out.”

Emma frowned. “Victor? Who’s that? Weren’t you taken with that doctor? Whale?”

“ _Emma_. Victor _is_ —um, it’s Doctor _Victor_ Whale.”

Emma inhaled, sharply. “Oh! Wow. I’ve known him for years, and never bothered to ask his name. So. That’s the good news, I figure? What’s the bad one?”

When she was quite for too long, Emma chanced a glance at Ruby—to find her biting her lip, nervously.

“Ruby?” Emma asked in concern.

“What? Oh. Actually… Granny doesn’t like him,” Ruby confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “She gets creepy vibes from him, or something. And...she has kinda warned me to not meet him in private.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. “What? Ruby, you’re not a child. You’re a grownup woman. You can take care of yourself.” She paused, sneaking a glance at Ruby’s fidgety self. “ _Unless_ , you’re not too sure about Victor, either?”

Ruby exhaled. “I once had dinner with him, at the Diner itself. But it was, like, a short, _very_ public meal-sharing situation. But this is gonna be a real date we go on as a couple.” She was silent for a while. “He’s invited me to the Rabbit Hole, tonight.”

Emma smiled. “Really? That’s good. You’ve got Lance, there, to back you up if something goes wrong.”

“Emma… can I ask a favor of you?”

Emma sucked her lips in. _There it is_. “Of course, Ruby. What is it?”

“Can you please—pretty _please_ —accompany me on this date?”

Emma inhaled, deeply. “You’re asking me to play third-wheel.”

“Kind of? But, you could always bring someone along! Please, _please_ , Emma—I don’t know why, but Granny’s words are, like, fixed in my head on repeat, and… I just can’t shake this _off_ feeling I’ve got about this entire thing.”

Emma rolled her eyes—but then stopped when she looked at Ruby, again. The brunette, always composed and confident, had never looked this nervous, before. “Is everything okay, Ruby?”

“Yes, yes, I just—” Ruby broke off on a sob, and Emma quickly pulled up to a side.

“Ruby? Oh, my God, everything is _not_ okay, obviously,” Emma muttered, pulling the girl in an embrace while Ruby shook with tears.

“It’s just… do you remember Peter?”

Emma’s heart broke for her. Peter had been Ruby’s boyfriend of over a decade—her High School sweetheart, if one was to believe the word on the street—who left her when things turned south with Ruby’s parents, and they left the town in the wake of their divorce. Turned out, Peter had been a gold digger that was after Mister Lucas’ money. “How can I forget…” Emma breathed out.

“I don’t know why, I just…I feel like something’s gonna go wrong with Victor, too, Emma.”

“I understand, Ruby,” Emma consoled the girl, and she really _did_ understand.

(There was a reason why she’d sworn off relationships, after all.)

“And if you’re so worried, I’ll come with you, okay? I’ll ask David or Robin to accompany me,” she settled, barely stopping herself from saying Liam’s name. She needed to take care of that chapter soon, too—Liam was one of her closest friends, and she wasn’t gonna just _lose_ him because he did something stupid. (More like something “ _utterly horrendous_ ,” but, oh well.) “Is that okay?”

Ruby gave her a watery smile, nodding. “Thank you so much, Emma.”

Emma squeezed her hand.

 

* * *

 

After multiple pleas from Ruby, Emma had agreed to swipe her leather jacket with a trench coat. (But it _was_ red.)

“Who’ve you called?” Ruby asked, straightening her deep blue, off-sleeves bodycon dress as they both stepped out of the Bug.

Emma tossed her a wry smile. “David. And he’s already here—drinking away the sorrows that Mary Margaret and the campaigning have been giving him,” she joked, locking the car, and walked around it to squeeze Ruby’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re gonna be _fine_ —you have the town’s Sheriff escorting you.”

Ruby passed her a huge smile, probably to mask the nervousness on her face. “Thank you for doing this, Emma.”

Emma nodded. “Let’s go?”

They crossed the road, quietly, and just as Emma had touched the doors, they were pulled open from the inside. Emma stepped back, wide-eyed, as a frustrated looking David bounded out.

“Whoa, whoa—David? Are you okay? Where are you going?” she asked, placing a hand on the man’s forearm.

David passed her what seemed like a guilty smile, and Emma knew she was doomed to third-wheeling for the night. “Mary Margaret called. She’s… Emma. Did you guys have a fight?”

Emma bit her lip, guiltily, and chanced a glance at Ruby. Ruby raised her eyebrows in a encouraging gesture. Emma sighed. “Yes. She tell you?”

David wiped a hand down his face. “She didn’t have to. She’s been acting cranky, irritable, and so—so _unlike_ herself for a month, I just—”

“Wait, hold on—a _month_?” Emma interrupted, frowning. “David, we got into the spat on _Sunday_.”

“Two days back,” David mumbled, shaking his head. “But… I… Then what the _hell’s_ wrong with her?”

“I don’t now,” Emma confessed. “I thought she was being unlike herself, too, but… I actually thought she was stressed about your campaigning.”

David scoffed. “Stressed? She doesn’t let me work, at all. I’m beginning to think she doesn’t want me to get into the elections.” David looked saddened. “And she’d been the most supportive person when I'd registered… Well. I’m gonna stop by _Merlin’s Delicacies_ —grab her some candies and try to cheer her up. She sounded like she was about to cry, on the phone.”

“Okay,” Ruby suddenly said, something akin a grimace on her face, “I can’t believe I’m about to break this to you, Mister Nolan, but… I think you should stop by a _pharmacy_.”

Emma’s brows shot up. “What? Ruby, do you… that she’s…?”

“Yep.”

“Wait. What?” David shook his head, looking between the two of them in confusion.

Ruby exhaled. “I think Mary Margaret is _pregnant_ , Mister Nolan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm off to visit my maa, next Tuesday, for two months. So there might be a delay in the updates. Sorry in advance?  
> xo!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, people, for the three-month long break! But, in my defence―I did warn y'all that I would be visiting my maa, and probably won't be able to update.
> 
> As compensation―this a really detailed chapter―almost double the length of a regular one. _And_ you're gonna absolutely love it, towards the end. (;
> 
> (At least I hope that you do...)

Emma's head was still reeling from the suggestion Ruby have made to David as they made their way into the Rabbit Hole. She turned to the brunette with her brows drawn together. “How did you come to such a _drastic_ conclusion, Ruby? I mean I didn't figure you would know much about the symptoms of _pregnancy_.”

Ruby's cheeks pinked and she gave a tiny little shrug to Emma. “Let's just say I've learnt a few things in passing, these past few weeks.”

Emma didn't exactly understand what she meant, but decided to let it go. They had bigger matters at hand, right now, and, anyways―nothing was confirmed until David got home and actually made Mary Margaret take the test.

Emma looked around the pub in search of Victor Whale, officially resigning herself to the post of Ruby's designated third wheel, when she noticed a very familiar head of black hair sitting next to where Lancelot was mixing the drinks at the bar.

“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Ruby, following Emma's line of sight. “Is that who I think it is? Seems like lady luck's on your side, Emma, huh?” she asked with a conspiratorial, sly smirk on her face.

Emma bit down on her lower lip, avoiding Ruby’s eye. The last thing she needed was making a greater fool of herself before Killian than she had last night. “I don't know what you're talking about. Shall we look for Victor?”

Ruby snorted. “Go talk to him. Looks like you won't be left without a date, after all.”

Emma recalled the horribly embarrassing things she'd said to him, last night. _Gods, she was such a brainless drunk!_ “Let it be, Ruby. I am fine just third wheeling you guys.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ruby scoffed. “Well. _I_ am not. Stop being a kid, Emma, and be thankful that I haven't questioned you about your association with him, yet.”

Emma clicked her tongue. “Maybe not _yet_ , but you will very soon―especially if I go talk to him tonight.”

Ruby released a long, tortured groan. “Will you ever let yourself do something that you _want_ to?”

Emma frowned at her. “I'm not sure I understand what you are trying to say, Ruby.”

“Oh, you do, Emma, you're just not ready to accept it. And, well, right now is not the time for these deep discussions. Can we just get on with it? Go talk to him, bring him over, and we'll go look for Victor.” Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Ruby raised a hand up to stop her. “Or better yet, I'll ring Victor up, and you go speak to _him_ ,” she corrected, nodding towards Killian.

Emma let out a breath, knowing it was fruitless to argue with Ruby, anymore. Rolling her shoulders back, she gathered all the courage she inherited from Ingrid, and walked up to the bar

Before she could have alerted Killian, though, Lancelot noticed her. “Miss Swan!” he called out. “A pleasure seeing you twice in a day!” His eyes went to get something over her shoulder and raised a brow. "Ruby Lucas is still dragging you around, I figure.”

Emma passed him a tight smile. “Yes, kind of.”

She chanced a glance at the guy she was here for, and found him looking at her with an amused smile of his own.

“So, would you like one of the schnapps you tried this afternoon, Miss?” Lancelot questioned her, and Emma rolled her eyes

“Give me a minute, and I'll get back to you, Lance.” She perched herself upon the stool next to Killian and fisted her hands in her lap. “Hi,” she breathed, looking at the devastatingly handsome man from under her lashes.

His teeth peeked out, Killian grinned at her so wide. “Hello, Swan. Ready for another midweek drinking spree, aye?”

Emma rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her cheeks started to feel warm. “I'm here for Ruby.”

Killian cocked an eyebrow, and Emma had to hold back a groan at how fucking _sexy_ that eyebrow twitch of his was. “Oh? And where would she be?” he questioned, tilting his head to to place her under that intense, analyzing stare of his.

“She's actually here on a date. And, uh, she wasn't exactly comfortable meeting the guy alone, so…” Emma trailed off, craning her neck to look around for Ruby― _and_ as an excuse to look away from his eyes. “She brought me along.”

“So, you're essentially third wheeling, then,” Killian commented, and Emma's gaze snapped back to his. His blue irises sparkled with mischief. “Interesting endeavour you've chosen there, Swan.”

Emma laughed, shrugging a shoulder. “Technically, I was supposed to bring a date. I mean, I _had_ brought a date.” She resolutely ignored the way his shoulders tensed at the revelation. “But he had an emergency back at home, and had to leave.”

Killian cleared his throat, and she found him frowning at his glass when Emma peeked a glance at him. “Oh? It must have been pretty urgent, love, that he stranded you for it.”

Emma bit down on her lower lip. Was that a tinge of _jealousy_ she detected in his tone? “Yeah, I guess. His girlfriend had called him up, so…”

Killian's head shot up, and Emma could barely hold her laughter back. “ _Girlfriend_? What sort of a man had you brought along, Swan? I'm never one to judge, but…going on a date with someone who has girlfriend is a tad bit unconventional, wouldn't you agree?”

“I wasn't on a _date_ , per se. Just two friends trying to help a third, was more like it,” Emma explained, all the while resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose at the gross prospect of going on a _date_ with David. “And David's like a brother to me, so, _ew._ No, thank you.”

Killian laughed at that. “Oh, yes, yes. I'm well aware of that.”

Emma froze.

_Well aware?_

_What?_

“Um...you're _well aware_?” she asked, twisting her stool to face Killian.

He ducked his head, bringing his right hand up to scratch behind a ear. “Aye. You see, Swan… David Nolan and I have been the best of friends ever since the days we graduated from _Storybrooke High_ , more than a decade ago.”

Emma's jaw dropped. “You _know_ David?”

“I thought we'd just established that I more than merely _know_ him, love.”

Emma shook her head, brows scrunched up, trying to make sense of what she was being told. “Oh, my God.”

Killian shrugged, sheepishly. “I was actually sat here sharing a drink with him, minutes before you came by. Apparently, Mister Lancelot, here, has a great European recipe for peppermint and cinnamon schnapps.”

Emma groaned in frustration. Now there was _no way_ Mary Margaret was gonna let her live her attraction to Killian down. Because there was no way David didn't know about her interactions with Killian, and no _fucking_ way that he hadn't told Mary Margaret all about them.

“Are you quite alright, love?”

Emma blinked up at the man leaning into her space, and shook herself out of her panic induced stupor. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just… _worried_ , you know? About Mary Margaret?”

Killian's lips twitched up into a smirk. “Anyone ever tell you that you're an awful liar, Emma?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, partly at his on-point deduction and partly at the way her name sounded in his voice. Then she cleared her throat. “I'm not _lying_ , Killian. You do know that Mary Margaret called him up, and David―”

Killian waved a hand. “Oh, I know all that, love, but I know that you aren't being completely truthful, either. You're something of an open book.”

Emma gaped at him, unsure whether to feel offended, or impressed that he could her so well. She settled for indignation. “Don't―”

“Emma!”

Emma jumped as an excited Ruby gripped her forearm, seeming to have emerged out of nowhere. “Ruby! You scared me!”

Ruby laughed. “ _Sorry_ , but it's not my fault that you didn't see me walking up to you.”

Emma bristled when she saw Killian snickering over Ruby's shoulder.

“ _Anyways_. I talked to him, and…” Ruby trailed off, and turned to give Killian a pointed look. The man raised his hands up in surrender, and turned the other way to give the girls privacy. “So, I talked to Victor, and I feel like a bitch.”

Emma's eyebrows arched. “What? Why?”

“He's a _sweetheart_ , Emma!” Ruby groaned aloud, looking skywards. “I was so fucking _stupid_ to doubt his intentions!”

Emma's lips twitched in amusement. “Oh? That's great, Ruby. And?”

“And,” Ruby whispered before taking a deep breath, “he offered that we could actually go back to the diner if I am more comfortable that way.”

“Really?” Emma hummed in appreciation. “That sounds promising. You misjudged him high time, didn't you?”

Ruby pursed her lips into a sad smile. “I feel awful.”

Emma laughed. “Don't feel awful, Ruby, go finish your date with him!”

Flashing her a bright grin, Ruby skipped off to the table she'd left Victor sitting alone at.

“Third wheeling no more, I guess,” Emma mumbled to herself, smirking at the sight of Ruby practically vibrating with excitement as she cuddled into Victor’s side.

“Left on your own, lass?”

Emma rolled her eyes, choosing to completely ignore the existence of the unbelievably attractive guy grinning at her, and swivelled her stool around to call for Lancelot. “I'll take those schnapps, now, Lance.”

Killian's low laughter invaded her space, and she couldn't resist chancing a glance. _Oh, lordy, this man…_ His eyes were crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display while he shook his head in between soft chuckles. How could a human being being so goddamned _attractive_ , God?

Emma suddenly frowned when she realized he was looking at his phone―laughing at something he saw in there, that is. For some reason, she deflated a bit.

She cleared her throat. “So…do you and David do this thing often?”

“Thing?”

“There you go, ma'am,” Lance announced, dramatically bowing as he slid a glass of pale liquid towards her.

“Thank you, Lance.” She flashed him a smile―maybe a tad bit too bright and not intended solely for Lance’s benefit, but whatever. “The sharing a drink, thing… you know?” she explained to Killian without looking at him, and shrugged a shoulder. Then she took a sip from her peach flavored drink, and looked at him from above the rim of her glass.

Killian's eyes were narrowed _._ “We do, indeed. At least when I'm in town―which isn't very often.”

Emma nodded, trying to calculate just how much Mary Margaret would already know about her and Killian and how much damage control would she have to do… Probably a lot. Knowing full well how David couldn’t hide things from Mary Margaret to save his life, she was in deep mess. The only way she wasn’t would be if Killian hadn’t, actually, told David anything about her. Which was also a huge possibility, considering how Killian told Liam that he was going to “pick some girl up” and had probably set his sights on _her_ for the job.

 _Goddammit_ , why was this so confusing?

“Something bothering you, love?” Killian questioned with an eyebrow cocked.

Emma shook her head, realizing she’d been quiet for too long. But what was she to do? She had enough worries already, as the town’s Sheriff, what with Will Scarlet not leaving her room to breathe. And now there was a tornado brewing up in her personal life, too. “As I said, concerned about Mary Margaret, is all,” she tried to brush him off.

Killian snorted, loudly, obviously not buying her half-hearted lie. “And as _I_ said...open book, Swan.”

Emma pursed her lips, agitated. This “open book” claim was getting too much. “Alright, then. What do _you_ think I’m worried about, then?” she challenged, squinting at his annoyingly attractive face.

Killian shrugged a shoulder, suddenly acting way too casual in comparison to his earlier interest. _Dude, what?_ “It isn’t good form to be theorizing a lady’s private thoughts, love.”

Emma’s brows threatened to fly off her forehead. “Excuse _me_?” she hissed, feeling her jaw slacken in incredulity. “Are you―did you actually just imply that you could―you can _read my mind_?” she managed to stutter out in between scoffing with disbelief, and...a teensy bit of alarm.

(Her mind wasn’t the best thing to be read, when it came to that.)

Killian swivelled to face her―and she had to take a deep breath to compose herself, lest she crawl over and climb up his―

She cleared her throat, cutting her gaze away from the tantalizing sight of his broad chest that his linen shirt seemed to be molded over. Not to mention the pale blue color that complemented his eyes, and made them sparkle. Or...maybe that was just his doing, because his smirk seemed to complement that sparkle, too.

“Say, Emma...would you care to go out for a walk with me?”

Emma blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. But she was quick to compose herself. Throwing back her drink, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand―unladylike, but convenient; and also a hell lot confidence boosting, for some reason―and then tossed the grinning handsome a challenging look.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Out of all things Emma could have thought Killian would likely talk about, _Liam_ would have been the least probable. She briefly wondered if she was projecting…if the chemistry she felt brewing between her and Killian was just one-sided...a figment of her imagination? After all, it _had_ happened to her before. Multiple times.

She exhaled quietly, putting a heeled foot in front of the other as the two of them sauntered down the quiet lane, side by side. It was barely six of the evening―but in a small town like Storybrooke, people tended to retire to their homes, early.

“I deeply apologize for all the heartbreak he has caused your friend, Emma,” Killian said after a long pause.

Emma nodded, thinking back to how he’d explained Liam’s side of story. She decided that she was going to have a talk with the man as soon as possible.

The idiot had broken it off with Elsa because he thought he was being unfair to her...and the girl that, supposedly, had feelings for him. Emma was shocked to know that Liam didn’t even have a solid enough confirmation of the fact, and he was just…“preparing for the worst case scenario” by ensuring that “the least possible number of people got hurt.”

Killian had asked her what she thought after he finished explaining it. She told him that she thought Liam was an idiot of the highest degree.

“Nothing comes out of your apology, Killian,” she mumbled, massaging her temples to ease the ache that had suddenly started throbbing in her head, “as much as I appreciate it. It’s Liam that has to do something about it. And _I’ll_ have to talk to him, probably, to make sure he does that. I mean…I get that he doesn’t wanna hurt his “friend,” but… Elsa is his girlfriend. _Was_. He supposedly still loves her. What the hell kind of sense hurting _her_ makes?”

She looked up at Killian after her mini-rant to find him looking at her with a small smile. He immediately looked away with a forced frown when their eyes met. She felt her cheeks warming up, and she didn’t want to ponder the implications of it.

“Yes, of course. Elsa should have been his first priority when it came to protecting people from getting hurt. And...believe it or not, Swan, he says that he _is_ protecting her.”

Emma wanted to cry. No, really, she wanted to sit down, cross-legged, right there in the middle of an empty street, and bawl her fucking eyes out. Because, what the _hell_ , Liam Jones?

“Okay, enough. Enough about Liam...and Elsa...and their stupid fucking story,” she finally snapped―metaphorically and _metaphorically_. “Please. Can we talk about something else?”

Killian flashed her his signature lascivious smile. “Aye, love, I don’t see why not. What would you like to discuss? Perhaps the _actual_ thoughts that have been bothering you?”

Emma looked at him with wide eyes. She had actually thought he believed that she was worried about Elsa, and she’d been fine with that. What did he mean by this, then?

For some reason, the fact that he could know how crazily attracted she was to him, scared her shitless.

(Actually, the reason was her ill experience with the male species. One chose studies over her, one left her for drugs, one died on her, and one...was never even hers to begin with. The chances of the next person she fell for being a heartless player that wouldn’t give a shit about her seemed fairly high, didn’t they?

Well. They did. To her, at least.)

“Emma. The night we met...you were on your way to a date, right?”

Emma snapped out of her thoughts. _Gods_ , she was getting lost _way_ too much, tonight. _Get a grip, Emma Swan!_ “I was, yeah. David and Mary Margaret had set me up with a guy, actually,” she confessed with an eye roll. “David said he was a friend of his, but I think that was just to convince me that guy wouldn’t be a total douchebag.”

Emma laughed along with him, and then looked up to catch his eye. He seemed sheepish, all of a sudden. “Well, I can guarantee that the man isn’t a _total douchebag_ , Swan. He actually prefers “dashing rapscallion” better.”

It literally took Emma better part of a minute―which she spent gaping at him with wide eyes and a frozen rest of the body―to decipher what he’d just confessed. His smirk shrunk with every passing second, and his face morphed from uncertainty to concern to confusion. “You―” She gasped out. “I was… It was _you_? I was supposed to― _you_ were my blind date? Oh, God…”

Her head was ready to burst. What were the odds?  
  
Wait… She suddenly narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you know?”

He bit down on his lip, and even the provocativeness of the gesture did nothing to contain Emma’s fury as she rained down on his chest with both fists. “You _knew_! You―you _idiot_ , you knew all this time, and... _damn you_! Why didn’t you―why’d you not fucking tell me? I was―how _dare_ you―”

Killian grabbed her wrists in his hands, ceasing her physical abuse, but the fury bubbling in her head didn’t quiet down until he’d turned them around and pressed her up against a wall, hooking one of his legs around her ankles. She yelped, and immediately fisted the front of his shirt to keep her footing.

She didn’t notice how close his face had come to hers, and a tiny gasp left her when she finally looked up. His eyes were even more beautiful from this proximity. And, oh God, that scruff on his jaw…

“Emma.”  
  
Her gaze snapped back up to meet his, and she felt her cheeks warming up when she realized she’d been staring at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?”  
  
Emma blinked. Was he―

Was this man seriously _asking her out_ , right now? _For real?_

 _Good, God_ ―

When she moved to extract her wrists, their charged moment now broken, Killian’s arms wrapped around her waist to keep her in place. Her entire body was pressed up against his, and she didn’t miss how he discreetly released her legs.

(He _was_ a gentleman, after all, and would probably prefer for her to remain unaware of any stirrings that occurred in his―)

“Or,” he whispered, filling the minimal space between them with the sweet scent of the cinnamon and peppermint schnapps he'd been drinking, “we could skip that and move on to better things.”

Welp.

(So...maybe he wasn’t _that_ much of a gentleman, after all.)

Emma’s eyes fell back onto his lips, and then she shut them and erased the distance to make her choice.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews!!!
> 
> – A! ❤


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. . . it's gettin' hot in here! ;)
> 
> (PS. This is unedited. I'll come back and do it, sometime. Or when I put up the next chapter.)
> 
> **Also: I updated the previous chapter, four days back! Check that out, first, if you missed it!**

His lips were soft―so _fucking_ soft―but they pulled at hers rough and raw, threatening to swallow her whole. She couldn't resist sinking her teeth into the bottom one when he craned his neck to deepen their kiss and opened his mouth to her. He replied in kind, flicking his tongue over her upper lip, and with a muffled grunt of contentment, she accepted his advances and let him devour her mouth.

One of his hands travelled up her waist, brushing against her side, and glided over her shoulder to find purchase in her hair, at the base of her head.

She made a satisfied sound at the back of her throat when his tongue slid against her―tasting the roof of her mouth before it curled over hers again―and it made her zing with the burst of peppermint in her mouth, the overwhelming scent of cinnamon filling her lungs, and the very _sensations_ that unfurled in her belly as he pressed up against hers more fiercely, his hips locking her in place.

Her own hands were quick to grip his shoulders, until one of them slowly made its way to the thick mass of his hair. She carded her fingers through them, practically vibrating from the intense desire that coursed through her veins at the attention he was giving to every nook and cranny of her mouth.

Just when she'd thought she would actually never come out of this pleasure induced haze, he pulled back.

Their lips separated with a low smack, but not low enough to not resonate in the silence that prevailed between them, now, only broken by the harsh breaths they drew in to make up for the lack of oxygen.

She reeled in that, though, with her eyes still closed. The brushes of his warm, minty breath over her mouth, the pressure of his hands on the back of her neck―(she didn't even noticed when both of them had reached up there)―the slight numbness in her lips from how much and how _hard_ he'd nibbled on them―she reeled in all of that, taking her sweet time.

To his credit―Killian didn't make any move to extract himself, either.

When she finally managed to peel her eyelids back, her gaze flitted all over his face. Her lower lip got automatically trapped between her teeth at how wrecked, beautifully disheveled, and fucking _sexy_ he looked. As if he wasn't attractive enough; he had to look even more impossibly enticing―making her want to dive right back in for another kiss, _God_ ―with his dark lashes resting against his high cheekbones, the tips of his ears burning red, and his lips, oh _fuck_ , those lips plump and wet and every bit as tantalizing as ever, _God help her_ ―

She dived right back in.

* * *

His lips had finally moved down to her jawline, leaving her room to breathe, but―

“ _God_ ,” she groaned when his teeth scraped against her pulse-point, and then his tongue flattened over it to soothe the sting.

― _but_ she wasn't quite breathing, anyways.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she pinched her lips together, trying her damnedest to keep herself from making pornographic sounds―because she was a fucking adult, and they were in a motherfucking _alley_ ―but―

But she couldn't help it when his teeth sunk into the hollow above her collarbone, and he sucked her pliant skin into his mouth, groaning against her as he laved it with his tongue.

Emma lost her grip on him, and her hands flew back to smack against the wall behind her. His scruffy jaw brushed the sensitive tops of her breasts when he discreetly widened the open lapels of her peacoat―she hadn't even noticed when he unbuttoned it―and his hands slid across the cami top she wore underneath, fingers pressing into the soft skin of her stomach.

“Emma,” he murmured into her skin, all guttural and hoarse, _oh Good Lord_. “We need to stop.”

_What?_

_...oh._

_Oh!_

Her eyes shut on an exhale. Right. They _did_ need to stop before some stray townsman caught the Sheriff rutting against a tourist in an alley.

(Or worse, with a certain appendage of his working _in_ her.

Shit.)

Shit.

Was she _really_ about to do that? Have sex with him?

Leave out the alley part, but...was she actually preparing herself to really go through with it? With _him_? Despite having concluded, multiple times, that she shouldn't?

What was _wrong_ with her?

Sleeping with Killian would be right about the worst thing she could do, right now. With all the mess happening with Liam and Elsa, her fight with Mary Margaret, and her general track record of failed relationships, how on earth did she think that it'd be a good idea?

That was it, though―she didn't think. She lost her mind to the little amount of alcohol in her veins, and his heady presence.

Even if it might have momentarily made her wanna slap him, Emma was thankful that Killian had kept his senses with him. She knew she'd be even more thankful for it in the long run.

Her hands came back to rest on his shoulders, and she pushed lightly, separating those hypnotic lips of his from her skin. They were doused in some sort of aphrodisiac― _goddammit_ , they _were_ aphrodisiac!

“Yes. Yes. You're right, we… We can't do this,” she mumbled in a rush, scrunching her brows and refusing to open her eyes.

(She knew what an irresistible sight his kissed self was. Not looking at it was the only way she could think of to restrain herself, right now.)

“Emma, I―”

“No, no, don't,” she stopped him, blindly reaching forth to give his shoulder a push to make her way out of the cage his body had held her in. She couldn't _think_ when she was so close to him. “We really can't do this. You're absolutely right. I was―oh, God… I don't _know_ what I was doing, really,” she mumbled, almost to herself, quickly buttoning her coat up.

“But, Emma…” He began, trailing off with a muted sound of frustration.

She frowned. He’d sounded like he was about to give her an explanation. _Why_ would he want to do that? So they made out―ferociously, so―and were about to do something that they shouldn't, and he stopped them. He did the right thing―he should be smug, right now.

Why did he sound apologetic?

“I'll...get going, then.” She pointed down the lane, lamely, refusing to meet his eyes.

“No, wait, Emma,” he rushed out, gripping her forearm and spinning her around in one sudden move.

She pursed her lips together to keep herself from kissing him, again. _Fuck. What the_ ** _hell_** _was wrong with her?_

“Don't go. I…” He looked around them helplessly. “The implication of what I said was that...that we're outside, in the open, and―”

“And it doesn't matter,” she cut him off, frowning as she extracted her arms from him. His eyes turned into immense pools of hurt. But she pushed forth. “Because we shouldn't have been doing this, in the first place. We―”

“No, please don't, Emma,” he whispered. “I can see you trying to formulate a lie, and I don't wish for you to try and run away, again.” He massaged the bridge of nose, looking down at his feet, while she simply gaped at him in stunned silence. “Do you require a ride? I have―”

“No. My house’s a few blocks from, here, and… And I can take care of myself. Thank you. Good night, Killian.”

She twisted on her heels, and walked down the lane, never once looking back at the man she left standing alone at the mouth of an alley.

* * *

Emma was awoken from a fitful sleep by an insistent knocking on her front door. The alarm clock on her nightstand displayed a few minutes past midnight.

Concern for Mary Margaret reared its head in her mind, and she was instantly awake. David never did get back to her with the news of Mary Margaret's well being.

Leaving her bed, Emma threw a hasty glance around her room to look for her nightgown, but when the knocking grew more urgent, she decided to forego it and sped down the stairs in only the oversized T-shirt she'd worn to bed.

On her way down, she momentarily wondered if it wasn't David.

Oh!

What if it was someone from the station with a killer lead on Scarlet?

She was slightly out of breath by the time she got to the front door, and waiting just a moment to take a deep inhale, she pulled it open.

Only for her breath to leave her in a whoosh.

Killian Jones stood across the threshold, a leather jacket thrown over the outfit he wore earlier, today, his eyes wide, and jaw set. He looked... _determined_?

“Killian, what―”

His lips crashed down on hers, cutting her question off and answering it, altogether. His kiss was rough and brutal, and so _fucking_ good, that she gave in immediately―letting him grab her waist and push her against the shut door and tilt her head to his convenience as his tongue slid over her lips, while his hands relocated themselves in her hair, clenching it and tilting her head back to let his thumbs massaged the soft skin behind her ears, and―

“ _Emma_ ,” he breathed into her mouth, not ready to separate an inch of his body from hers as he pushed his jeans clad knee between her bare legs, trailing a hand down her side to clench at her hip before the other joined in, too, and he pulled her closer, dragging her over his thigh that almost _killed her_ , right there, because _shit_ ―

His fingers slid past the hem of her T-shirt and gripped her thighs as he pushed forward again, and her idle arms immediately wound around his neck, hands grabbing onto his back and the collar of his jacket while he pulled her legs up to wrap around his waist. His hips pressed against her, soothing the throbbing ache in her.

His mouth moved down to her jaw, and she heaved in a huge gulp of breath, crying out when he bit down on the skin of her neck before trailing his tongue up to her earlobe. An embarrassing whine escape her when he closed his lips over it, and sucked.

She might have breathed out his name―she ready wasn't sure. Her brain was all over the place, all sorts of coherent, right now―

“Ooph!” she yelped, realizing she was mid free fall, and then, “ow!” she grunted when she landed on her couch.

She looked up at Killian, some of her haze dissipating.

“Swan,” he began, kneeling on the floor, next to her. “I am crazily attracted to you. You have the body of an angel, and I…it's extremely difficult to restrain myself when I'm in your proximity. But I have to. Because this,” he pointed between them, “is not _all_ that I want from you.”

Emma's breath caught. He wouldn't―

“I like you. I _really_ like you. You stormed away from me before I could explain, but… I wanted to proposition you. Allow me to court you?”

―he did.

Why, _why_ did he bring up the dating thingy? Why couldn't he just let them―

Emma cut her thoughts off, mentally shaking herself out of the overwhelming lust flowing through her. And just what the hell was _she_ doing? Less than six hours ago, she had realized that sleeping with him would be a disaster, and now she was again wondering why they couldn't just do it, without Killian bringing up the dating talk.

(Because that was the exact line of thoughts she'd cut off. And now she'd let herself finish it.

Good _God…_ )

“I… I'm sorry Killian,” she mumbled, frowning. “I don't―”

“You don't date? Yes, I'm well aware of that, love,” he interrupted her. “David gave me that fair warning before he convinced me about that blind date.”

Emma cleared her throat, uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how she felt about David discussing her dating life with a friend of his.

(But then again―she wasn't sure how she felt about being asked out by the irresistibly handsome guy she wanted to have sex with. Even if it would bring hell into her already messy life.)

“Emma… I don't know what past experiences plague you, but… I promise to do better than them. All of them.”

His eyes were earnest, and, _God_ , so blue that Emma found herself nibbling on her lower lip in consideration. But then she snapped out of it.

_You know what happens, Emma! Do really wanna go through all that, again?_

Well, no, she didn't. _Never again_ , if she could help it.

“That's what they all say, Killain,” she morosely informed him, “and then they go and screw it up. It's not even completely their fault, if you ask me. I'm just…I'm just that sort of a woman, I suppose. I do things that…make loving me difficult.”

He pressed his lips into a line.

“I've had _four_ majorly failed relationships, you know,” she confessed, shrugging a shoulder. He didn't even blink. “I was in love with them. All four of them. But they couldn't find it in themselves to reciprocate. Okay, well, one of them did, I suppose. But he didn't live long enough to tell me that.”

He fidgeted with his jacket, and Emma's eyes almost bulged when he produced a flask from an inside pocket. She gave him a questioning glance.

He smiled, wryly, and heaved himself up on the couch, next to her. “Rum. I figure you'd need this if we are to go into the details of this piece of information you just provided me with.”

Emma shut her eyes, and exhaled. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT CHAPTER IS A BOMBBB, I'M TELLING YA!
> 
> Leave a Kudos if you haven't, Bookmark this, and please, _pretty please_ , drop me a word! ❤


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